


In Death, Love Prevails

by yumimum



Series: All That Could Be [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumimum/pseuds/yumimum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take one mixed up slayer; add a dash of persistent vampire and a splash of honesty. Stir well and what do you get?</p>
<p>Set immediately post-Tabula Rasa. Can our favourite vampire coax Buffy out of that infamous river, or is the slayer destined to continue alone in a world full of nightmares?</p>
<p>Contains spoilers up to and including season six.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Viva ut vivas - Live that you may live.

Her lips attacked his with aching desperation, caught in a frenzied dance of nips and bites. The constant pressure of his kiss reassured her of the tangibility of his presence, a truth bolstered by the strong arms that banded around her waist. Restlessly, Buffy’s hands traversed the corded plains of Spike’s upper body, finally coming to rest at his shoulders. And with undisguised ferocity her trembling fingers grasped the soft leather of his duster, clutching him forcefully, inconsolably, in her frantic embrace.

He was her lifeline.

The tenuous link that bound her to the unbearable life thrust upon her. The one unerring presence that prevented her from drowning in the despair and confusion that threatened to overwhelm her angst-ridden heart.

Their kiss grew more demanding as Buffy drew his tongue into the heated cavern of her mouth. One hand ventured behind Spike’s neck, and she allowed her fingers to tangle in the belying softness of his gel-confined curls. Groaning, the Slayer deepened her embrace, and through the haze of desire, she felt Spike’s hands grip painfully at her waist as he reluctantly broke free from her zealous lips and allowed her to breathe.

A desperate gasp tore from her throat and Buffy immediately recaptured his mouth in an all-consuming kiss. _This is wrong,_ she thought, grasping him tighter. _It’s me. I came back wrong._ Consequently, the Slayer quickly banished her brain from the equation; thinking led to reason, and logic was not welcome here.

Under no circumstances should the Slayer be entwined in the fervent embrace of a soulless killer. However, in this stolen moment of comfort, the darkness that surrounded her was perforated by tiny pinpricks of raw, unadulterated sensation, and despite the inherent wrongness, Buffy was unable to bring herself to care. Cloaked in the shadows beneath the stairway, she felt her carefully constructed barriers crumble to ruins as she sought to possess everything the bleached vampire had to offer.

In her passion inebriated mind, the rest of the world faded away, leaving nothing but the intoxicating taste of Spike’s kiss in its stead.

Nothing else mattered.

“Buffy, so sweet... Christ, you taste so good,” Spike whispered against her lips as his boisterous hands hauled her against the solid length of his body.

With each sinful caress, the vampire swore he felt his undead heart thunder in his chest. The hollow ache to which he was accustomed, replaced by a raging inferno of hope and desire. She brought him to life. Set his blood on fire with each heady gasp and unrestrained whimper of pleasure. Spike could only pray he wouldn’t burst into flames, here in her arms.

“I love you, Buffy. God, I love you so much.”

Spike swore his declaration ardently against her mouth and marvelled at the tremors that racked her tiny frame. His words were an oath, an unconditional promise of devotion, yet no sooner had the words filtered through Buffy’s covetous haze, did she wrench herself from his embrace. In an instant, reality crashed down around her and shocked at her audacity, Buffy wrapped her arms around her waist in a protective stance. Though, whether she was defending herself from the man before her or the abruptly encroaching world was uncertain.

Instinctively, Spike moved to take her back into the protective circle of his arms, but stopped, frozen to the spot, as Buffy’s heavy lids fluttered open to reveal the anguish in her eyes. Spike prided himself on his ability to know precisely what his Slayer needed, but lately his innate skill was coming up short. Before his very eyes, the woman he loved was fading away. The bright spark of her existence smothered and extinguished by a world undeserving of her light. The fact that the soddin’ Slayerettes could dare look themselves in the mirror beggared belief.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Buffy’s words were barely a whisper as they broke through his reverie. Her head hung low, shoulders slumped in defeat as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Why do I keep doing this? This is...”

“Buffy, love.” Spike kept his voice low and took a cautious step towards her trembling form. “Look at me. Look into my eyes. There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart, nothing.”

“There has to be,” she said, shaking her head as she implored him. “Why else would I keep... why you?”

The look on her face was heart-breaking, and her unbidden tears won their quest for freedom, wetting her cheeks. In an instant, Spike closed the distance between them and drew her into his strong embrace. Her body shook under the heavy weight of her sobs, and Buffy buried her head against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and cigarettes. Cautiously, Spike raised his left hand and ran his fingers through her hair as he held her close, whispering gentle reassurances into her ear.

Spike had dreamt of this. He’d spent many sleepless days wishing he could give Buffy the physical comfort she so obviously needed. However, even his most detailed fantasy could not compare to the heart-wrenching reality in which he found himself. The taste of her kisses remained on his tongue. The sweet aroma of her perfume permeated the air, and the woman he loved was cradled, distraught, in his arms.

Spike knew it wouldn’t last. He was living on borrowed time, and any minute Buffy would realise in whose arms she stood, and the moment would be lost like dust on the wind.

_Bloody William. That stupid ponce really picked his moments to start waxing poetic!_

“Oh god, I can’t do this. I have to...”

As if on cue, Buffy mumbled the words against his chest. Spike’s heart sank as she tensed against him, and pulled away as if appalled by the solace he offered. Trembling fingers brushed against her kiss-swollen lips as her eyes darted around, searching frantically for an escape route. With words of placation stuck in his throat, Spike stood dumbstruck as in the blink of an eye, the Slayer vanished within the throng of revellers inside the nightclub.

This wasn’t his Buffy.

Gone was the golden goddess whose beauty and tenacity inspired him to turn his back on his entire existence. The only woman who could foil his plans and put him in his place with an insolent quip or well-timed pop to the nose. The girl that remained was a desolate shell of the vibrant slayer he fell so desperately in love with, and it was more than any mere man could handle.

Mortal or otherwise.

Without a thought to his public location, Spike shifted into his demonic visage as a wave of frustration swept throughout his body. An anguished growl tore from his throat as his fist connected with the stonework before him. The pain from his bruised knuckles was oddly therapeutic, quieting his tormented demon, and it was with a tremendous amount of willpower that Spike shook off his game face and pushed his way between the heaving bodies of the Bronze’s patrons as he headed towards the bar.

He signalled the bartender and within moments, a shot of whiskey was placed before him—the first of many as far as he was concerned. Without pause, Spike tipped his head back and swallowed the glass’s much needed contents. His eyes closed in relief as the amber liquid burnt a fiery trail down his throat, but he was unable to quench the churning sensation within him.

_Her eyes._

God, he couldn’t get the image out of his head. That torturous look of sorrow would be forever burned into his mind’s eye. Lost, empty, and interwoven with nameless emotions, they wordlessly implored him to make sense of the chaos that was her life.

Spike had been damn near crippled by the void caused by her death. If it hadn’t been for his promise to protect the Niblet, the vampire would have gladly walked out to greet the sunrise. Through mutual sorrow they formed a unique bond, supported each other in their grief, safe in the knowledge that she was in a better place.

Of course she was. Someone like Buffy was destined for the bountiful rewards of heaven, and given the chance; Spike would have willingly walked through fire to prevent her friends from doing that spell. Nevertheless, the sanctimonious prats had kept him in the dark.

Chip or no chip, he wanted to kill her fucking mates for doing this to her. From the moment Buffy confessed the truth of her severance from heaven, Spike was consumed by the injustice of the situation. How dare they? How the buggerin’ hell could her so-called mates—the persons who were supposed to care about her—deprive her of eternal peace simply because they didn’t bother to bloody well check their facts?

Buffy had actively sought him out since her resurrection. Her friends couldn’t understand her need for solitude and Spike did his best to offer her a refuge from the harsh realities of her life. Night after night she confided in him her darkest secrets, and Spike did his best to be a shoulder to cry on, a non-judgmental presence in her hour of need.

But that was _before._

 _Before_ some soddin’ chorus line wanker blew into town and made him spill his guts. _Before_ he told her how it was killing him to be so near and yet so far. _Before_ every facet of their burgeoning friendship was shattered by two simple kisses.

It galled him that despite the misery caused by the Scoobies’ short-sightedness, Spike was unable to lie to himself. Seeing her alive again was the single happiest moment of his entire existence, and despite the consequences, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her again. Existing in a Buffyless world, deprived of her radiance, damn near ended him, and regardless of his best-intentions, he couldn’t wish her gone.

Nevertheless, the fragility that surrounded her since her enforced return frightened him dreadfully. Buffy seemed so detached from the world around her, and he was deeply concerned that some God forsaken demon or vampire could easily get their one good day.

“To hell with this,” Spike said as he slammed his glass back on the counter. “I’m not gonna sit here and brood like soddin’ Peaches.”

In a swirl of black leather he leapt from his stool, and without paying his bar tab, he headed for the nearest exit. The bloody chip may have restricted the majority of his guilty pleasures, but he could still get his evil on where possible, and petty theft would have to suffice.

Spike stormed through the fire exit door and inhaled a deep breath of cool night air, quickly regretting his decision when the abhorrent stench of piss and rotten garbage assailed his senses. With an incensed growl, he took his anger out on the nearest trash can and stalked towards the end of the alley. Hurriedly, Spike sought out a packet of Marlboro’s from inside his duster pocket and growled in irritation when his prominent erection refused to be abated and chafed against its denim confines.

With shaky fingers, Spike lit his cigarette and then reached down to absent-mindedly readjust himself whilst he considered his options. The way he figured it the Slayer was long gone, so he could either move on to Willy’s or call it a night and head back to his crypt. Much to his chagrin, Spike had spent far too much time getting to know his own left hand recently, and he was in dire need of a new hobby.

He wasn’t William the Bloody Wanker for Christ’s sake.

Willy’s it was then. Decision made, he inhaled a deep lungful of smoke and sauntered out of the alley. With any luck he could drown his thoughts in liquor, catch a game of kitten poker and stumble back to his place before sunrise.

But then, Spike’s plans always had a tendency to fall apart on him.   


 

Buffy scrutinised the disused and neglected playground. The swings, slide and climbing frame had undoubtedly seen better days. Rusty and fallen into disrepair, long since abandoned by children with better games to play. A wave of childhood nostalgia washed through her as she remembered sunny afternoons spent with her parents in another California playground, back in the days before her calling. Back when they were happy and the future was hers alone to decide.

Those days seemed so long ago now, nothing but a distant memory. Nowadays, it was a struggle just to get out of bed in the morning. She managed it of course. Her responsibilities as a single-big-sis-parent never ceased, and she was forced to put on a brave face for those around her.

 _Everyone except Spike,_ she thought.

Buffy didn’t know how he did it, but without fail the master vampire was capable of seeing right through her carefully constructed facade to the lost and confused girl within. He was her sanctuary, her confidant. With effortless ease Spike coaxed her from the bitter wasteland of numbness and made her feel—

He made her _feel._

If Buffy was honest with herself, it angered her that her so-called friends and family were unable, or more likely unwilling, to see the patent truth before their eyes. Her waking moments were a constant battle to overcome the sense of emptiness and loss that threatened to consume her. With each passing day her resentment and frustration amplified as her every action was scrutinized and dissected in an attempt to understand her obvious detachment.

As an act of self-preservation, Buffy had taken to avoiding the Scoobies rather than risk a confrontation of what promised to be epic proportions.

Matters had deteriorated further still when the truth emerged about her heavenly resting place. Overnight, the curious looks and endless questions were replaced by awkward silences and Willow’s constant need for reassurance that Buffy didn’t hate her.

An answer that felt increasingly hollow with each obligatory denial.

The arrival of Sweet had not only forced another wedge between herself and the gang, but it tore her budding relationship with Spike asunder.

Buffy shivered as an icy gust of wind sent the fallen leaves skittering around her feet and away from the swing on which she sat. Cold and exhausted, she pulled her leather jacket tighter around her body in an attempt to shield herself from the bitter chill of the night.

Sunnydale’s demon community were keeping a low profile, but it wasn’t her sacred duty that kept her from returning home. Willow’s latest spell had unleashed a whole new set of complications to her already screwed up life, and she was in desperate need of tranquillity and another bout of quiet reflection.

It was with an immense amount of self-discipline that Buffy stopped herself from heading towards Spike’s crypt. The irony of seeking solace in the home of her former mortal enemy was not lost on her, but since her return it felt like Spike was the only person who truly understood her plight. Unlike her friends, he didn’t push her or make demands. With a shrewd smile, he accepted her pensive silences and was there for her when she needed to vent her aggravation and grievances.

 _Except he isn’t,_ thought Buffy, _not anymore._

Perhaps if they had never kissed then things could be different. But they had, and now the very foundation of their tentative friendship was irrecoverably altered. Spike had made it clear that being around her, but not being able to have all of her, was a torment in itself. Their musical extravaganza had brought many unspoken truths to the surface, and it was too late to bury them again.

Buffy knew that Spike was in love with her. Sure, she denied it vehemently in the past, but the unadulterated truth shone brightly whenever he looked into her eyes. Buffy wasn’t sure exactly when the rigid confines she placed on their relationship had merged into dubious shades of grey, but her feelings towards the vampire where definitely not of the good. It frightened her to think that she was capable of caring so strongly for another vampire, and so, by no fault of his own, Buffy was forced to shut Spike out of her life, if not her heart.

A heavy guilt settled in her stomach as she considered her latest rejection of the vampire. Buffy hadn’t missed the wounded expression that flashed over his chiselled features when she’d turned from him, and she hated herself for causing the hurt that clouded his expressive eyes.

It was a far cry from the way he looked at her the night of her resurrection. In those first bewildering hours, Spike’s eyes were awash with awe and disbelief as he gazed upon her as if she were his own personal miracle. His voice, cautious and understanding, had gradually coaxed her from her apathetic state and given her back her sense of self. With patient tenderness, Spike had held her damaged hands in his own cool, strong grip and answered her shell-shocked questions. His eyes, like his grasp, were gentle and supportive, and Buffy had felt a wave of disappointment wash through her when the Scoobies burst through the door and interrupted them.

Spike had left soon afterwards, and even through her numbness Buffy was aware of a sense of sorrow that the only person who seemed to comprehend her grief was no longer around. Her friends were too excited about their magical triumph to notice her distress, and she’d quickly pleaded exhaustion in a bid to escape them.

The seeds had been sown that very night. An inimitable bond that grew into something unexpected and extraordinary... _and completely wig-worthy!_

Buffy heaved a deep sigh as she massaged her temple in an effort to relieve the pulsating headache caused from constant over-thinking. _I learned my lesson with Angel,_ she thought, unable to keep the dejected tone from her inner monologue. _Vampires and happily-ever-afters are completely non-mixey. I’m so not going there again. Not with Spike... not with anyone._

If her train wreck of a romantic history could attest to anything, it was that the Slayer was destined to be alone. The people she let into her heart inevitably left her one way or another. Obviously, there was something about her that made a successful relationship an impossible reality. Be it her inherent strength or her Calling, it appeared the Slayer was all consuming, and the woman that remained wasn’t feminine enough to be loved back... for the long haul, anyway.

Buffy blinked back a fresh deluge of tears as she resigned herself to a life devoid of the companionship she desperately craved. Sure, Spike loved her now. But in the long run it would probably get him killed... dusted... whatever! The end result would be the same. He would leave her... just like any other man she dared to care about.

Spike had done so much for her since her impromptu return, and he deserved better than the inevitable misery that being around her seemed to entail. She had to be strong... for both their sakes.

But why did it have to hurt so damn much?

 

 

Spike was beginning to regret his decision to head across town. It was bloody difficult to forget about Buffy when her sweet vanilla aroma clung to his duster, taunting him with fresh aromatic bursts upon each new step. The tantalizing taste of her kisses remained in his mouth and the sound of her passionate whimpers echoed throughout his mind. Reaching down, Spike readjusted his persistent erection for the umpteenth time and released a low rumbling growl.

Oh yeah, a wank sounded pretty bloody tempting right about now.

On several occasions, Spike caught himself subconsciously circling towards her home, as the urge to seek Buffy out grew harder to resist. Each time, his progress was halted at the realisation that his presence was unlikely to be appreciated by the unpredictable Slayer.

_Can’t help the girl if you’re a pile of dust, mate. She needs you, even if she’s too bloody stubborn to admit it._

With renewed determination, Spike increased his pace as he attempted to put as much distance between himself and Revello Drive as possible. If he didn’t know better, Spike could swear that her scent was getting

stronger. His mind was playing tricks on him because surely that was wishful thinking. Buffy would be safely tucked up in her bed by now. Denying, rationalising, and above all, ignoring the turbulent emotions that raged between them.

Spike paused beside a large wrought iron gate as he once again fished his cigarettes out of his pocket. The spark from his lighter illuminated the sculpted features of his face and he inhaled a deep, nicotine laced breath. His dissatisfaction relieved temporarily, Spike moved to continue his journey, but froze mid-step as he caught a movement in the corner of his eye.

His long dead heart clamoured in his chest as he registered the sight before him. In the middle of a disused playground, his girl sat slumped and defeated on a gently rocking swing. Buffy had never looked more childlike and vulnerable. Her delicate fingers were clasped tightly around the chains and she visibly trembled beneath his penetrating gaze.

The sight alone caused his entire being to ache in sympathy.

 _So much for kitten poker,_ thought Spike, as his unsteady hand reached to open the park gate, _Looks like good ol’ Willy’s gets a reprieve tonight after all._

But bugger if he didn’t need that drink now, more than ever.


	2. Dum vita est spes est  - While there is life, there is hope.

Spike’s feet moved of their own volition and quickly swallowed up the distance that separated them. His discarded cigarette fell to the ground, and he found himself standing mere feet from the woman he loved. Words were unable to pass the lump that formed in his suddenly dry throat, and as was becoming a habit, Spike had absolutely no idea how to approach her.

“I should have known you’d find me.”

Buffy’s words were barely audible as they registered through his hesitant trance.

“I’ll always find you.”

Summoning his courage, Spike joined her on the adjacent swing, and, with hands buried deep within his pockets, he sat motionless, studying her. Lips pressed into a tight frown, his eyes wandered over her tear-stained face. “What are you doing out here, Buffy?”

The sombre tone in his voice gave her pause. Spike was concerned, and he wasn’t the type to worry about anything. At every given opportunity, the vampire laughed in the face of danger, gave it a two-fingered salute and arrogantly turned his back on it. The fact that he was worried only gave credence to Buffy’s own worst fears.

Long agonising seconds passed before she answered his question. “I didn’t want to go home,” she whispered, raising her red-rimmed eyes to meet his. “I just couldn’t face them tonight. All the questions, the endless apologies... I didn’t want to deal with them... I needed...”

_You._

The unspoken word resonated in the air between them, and he carefully reached over to take her hands in his firm grip. A gesture eerily similar to that of her first night back. Spike’s concerned eyes never left hers as he watched the anguish wash over her care-worn face. “It’s okay, love,” he said, stroking his thumbs over her knuckles in a soothing motion. “I’m here now. Everythin’s goin’ to be alright, I promise.”

A sardonic laugh burst from between her lips and startled the apprehensive vampire. “How can you say that?” Buffy jerked her hands from his grasp and gesticulated wildly. “She tried to take my memories away, Spike. My God, it’s not bad enough that she tore me from heaven, now she has to erase every trace from my mind as well?”

Buffy noticed the pain of rejection that marred his features, and felt compelled to pacify the hurt she’d unintentionally caused. She hated that Spike always bore the brunt of her anger and frustration, simply because she was incapable of confronting her friends. They were the guilty parties who truly deserved her resentment, and it took a conscious effort to remind her that Spike and Dawn were as innocent in this nightmare as she was.

Since her forced return, Buffy preferred to maintain an air of silence, afraid of the resulting aftermath if she dared voice her outrage. The ferocity of her wrath was all-consuming, and she feared the fury that blistered within would inadvertently burst free and eviscerate those nearby. It became apparent during her nocturnal visitations to his crypt that Spike was willing to offer her an outlet in which to release this barely restrained fury, regardless of the adverse effect on his own tattered emotions.

Well, not anymore. Not tonight.

A surge of embarrassment rushed through her at the knowledge that, for years, she’d blindly followed the teachings of Giles and the council. How could she have ever thought to equate a vampire like Spike with the mindless, feral creatures she staked on a nightly basis?

Buffy reached across to reclaim his cool hand and marvelled at the grateful smile that blossomed on his lips. “I was happy tonight,” she said, eyes firmly locked on the sight of their entwined fingers. “It felt like this huge weight had been lifted. My life was a blank slate and I was able to just be me. It was... liberating. I was free to be just a woman, a sister,” Buffy’s eyes met his and sent him a poignant glance, “free to laugh and flirt and... even the extreme wigginess of not knowing who I was didn’t matter because... because for a few hours I was happy being someone else.”

Buffy’s words trailed off to a whisper as she voiced her confession to the stunned vampire. The barest ember of hope flared to life in his chest, and his arms ached to take her into his protective embrace. It was a fleeting glance at best, but beneath the disjointed notions of patented Buffy babble, he glimpsed a rare sign of the Slayer he fell so hopelessly in love with. With a calming breath, Spike summoned a century’s worth of self-control and remained silent as he allowed Buffy to work through her jumbled thoughts.

“How could they do this to me?” Her troubled eyes implored him for a response that he was unable to give. “I was done, Spike. Finished. Everything here is so harsh and violent. I was at peace and they pulled me back to this... Is that all I’m good for? Death and destruction?”

_Oh, that’s bloody well it!_ Spike’s demon raged within, desperate to seek retribution for his girl against the bastards who’d made her feel this worthless. Fuck the chip. He was furious and wanted to tear the Scoobies apart. Bugger the consequences.

“It’ll never be over will it?”

Spike’s anger deflated briefly as Buffy’s hushed tones penetrated his homicidal considerations.

“The darkness... it’ll just keep coming and coming until I make another mistake.” Resentment flashed in her eyes and she continued with a bitter edge to her voice. “Of course, even that’s no guarantee that they’ll let me rest, is it?”

The temptation to reach out to her was irresistible, and Spike freed his left hand from her grasp to brush her cheek in a feather light caress. “I don’t know what to tell you, love.” His calloused fingers trailed the length of her arm and left a trail of goose bumps beneath the smooth leather of her jacket. “God knows what the hell they were thinkin’. Maybe that’s the bloody problem. I always figured the lot of ‘em to be a few fries short of a happy meal.”

A small, albeit, sincere smile curled her lips at the erstwhile memory, and Buffy continued her verbal outpouring. “She keeps doing this... Willow. She keeps using magic to fix things. Fix me. She’s been doing it for years but we all ignored it. It was just the little things at first but now... it’s become so much more. I should have stepped in before, should never have—”

Buffy was interrupted by the low growl that emanated from the vampire beside her.

“Don’t you dare go blamin’ yourself for Red’s shortcomings,” Spike said in a sombre tone. “Your Sabrina’s a big girl now, and it’s about bloody time she took responsibility for buggerin’ up her own damn life. If you want to blame someone, blame your bleedin’ Watcher. He’s the one who allowed a novice to teach herself magic in the first place. The witch is not your soddin’ responsibility, and I won’t have you feelin’ guilty about it!”

Buffy was surprised by the vehemence in his voice and astonishment displayed over her shocked features. Not wishing to distress her further, Spike tempered his tone and curled his lips into his trademark smirk.

“Although, as magical screw-ups go, I remember one in particular that had some definite... _highlights._ ” His eyes shone with mischief and a sinful tongue swept over his blunt human teeth. The delightful pink flush that coloured Buffy’s cheeks confirmed that she recalled their spell-induced engagement from two years previous, and Spike chuckled as he remembered the amorous side effects of that particular misadventure.

_I never stood a bloody chance,_ he thought, gazing at the embarrassed blonde. _I was hers from that first soddin’ kiss._

Truth be told, Spike’s relationship with the talented young slayer had never been entirely of the kill-or-be-killed variety. She was an enigma. An exquisite assassin wrapped up in a five-foot bundle of sass and ingenuity. Spike always maintained that Buffy was the bane of his existence, the bloody thorn in his side, but in truth, from that first predatory glance, he was hopelessly and irrecoverably lost.

The memory of sitting on Spike’s lap as he whispered sinful promises directly into her ear had a similar effect on the flustered Slayer. Liquid fire raced through her veins as images of passionate kisses and wandering hands flashed into her mind. The colour in Buffy’s cheeks deepened as she remembered the feel of his erection pressed against her ass as she sat cradled in his arms, mere feet from the unseeing eyes of her Watcher.

The overwhelming sense of love and security she’d experienced whilst in the embrace of her natural enemy was unlike anything she’d felt with her former lovers. An insistent voice in Buffy’s head argued that this was because Spike was unlike the other men in her life. He understood her burden on a level that very few could appreciate, yet alone abide.

In retrospect, Buffy regretted how much time she’d wasted in the pointless pursuit of that elusive normal life. She was the Slayer; normal would never be enough. She should have realised that when Angel broke her heart and left her with a how-to guide for future relationships. A guide that resulted in a huge Parker-sized mistake and the safety net named Riley. Buffy had tried so hard to make a relationship work with men of the pulse-having variety that she never stopped to question why. A wiser part of her now realised it was a detrimental attempt to make her first love proud. If she couldn’t make it work with a nice, average boy then what did that say about her?

Buffy had stuck by Riley despite the niggling voice that told her something was missing. In the end, her Calling had proven too much for their shaky romance to withstand, and his insecurity and fragile ego led Riley to the arms of vamp whores for the connection that Buffy was incapable of bestowing.

In her world, nothing was guaranteed. Not even death. Normality didn’t come with the whole Slayer package. Although a predisposition towards hot vampires seemed to be standard issue…

Gradually, Buffy became aware that she and Spike had been staring into each other’s eyes for an inordinate amount of time. Without realising it, they had slipped into a familiar silence, allowing the Slayer to reach her momentous conclusions. In light of her current situation, Buffy was desperate to protect herself from any additional pain, but as usual, Spike’s presence caused her mind to wander in directions she fought vigorously to avoid. Piece by piece, he tore through her resistance and rebuilt the shattered pieces of her psyche, and despite her apprehension to pursue a relationship with the man who consoled her, Buffy found herself tempted to open her heart and take a risk.

A surge of resigned acceptance flooded throughout her body as she looked into the eyes of the extraordinary vampire. If she could only summon the courage to take that final leap into the unknown, she would be assured of the love and protection she had experienced all too briefly in the past.

Spike watched Buffy’s brow furrow as she engaged in an unidentified internal debate. She was so difficult to read these days that he dared not presume to hazard a guess to the cause of her introspection. His watchful eyes glanced around the park as he checked their environment for the various beasties that Sunnydale had to offer. The night was silent, and everything seemed in order. Satisfied, his vigilant gaze returned to the silent Slayer, and he almost fell from his swing in astonishment when he saw the buoyant smile that lit up her beautiful features.

_There’s my girl!_ His heart soared, and Spike returned her spirited grin as one scarred eyebrow rose enquiringly. “What are you thinkin’, love?”

“The engagement,” Buffy replied. “I was wondering how my mom would’ve reacted if she’d known.”

Spike mouth formed a tight frown. “Now there’s a bloody frightenin’ thought,” he said, struggling to school his features whilst inwardly astonished by the surrealism of their conversation.

“Frightening?” Buffy’s eyebrows rose in response. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed the reluctant twitch of Spike’s lips as he fought against a smile. “Don’t tell me the big bad vampire was afraid of my Mother?”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Spike’s tone was incredulous as an exaggerated shudder coursed through his body. “The first time I met the woman she clobbered me over the head with a bloody axe. I reckon if Joyce knew about our upcoming nuptials, she’d have likely run me out of town with a pointy stick faster than you can say, hello cutie!”

The visual image he painted had Buffy chuckling and she couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Oh I don’t know about that,” she said with a playful gleam in her eyes. “I’m sure once mom got past the whole ‘get the hell away from my daughter’ part she’d have been cool. And hey! I bet she’d have been plying you with hot chocolately goodness and throwing out your wardrobe before you knew what hit you.”

“Oi!” Spike replied with fake annoyance. “You saying there’s somethin’ wrong with what I’m wearin’?”

The sight of his girl smiling in genuine delight filled him with such satisfaction that it was impossible to take offence. Hell, if it kept that radiant grin on her face, who was he to complain about being the subject of her playful mocking?

“Who, me?” Buffy said, in response to his good-humoured indignation. “Na-ah... I’m sure black jeans and t-shirts are very chic.” Her eyes raked over the length of his body and Spike barely prevented a groan from escaping as her little pink tongue swept over her bottom lip. “I’m curious. Do you actually own more than one change of clothes?”

An exultant laugh tumbled from Spike’s lips at the surprise emergence of his golden goddess. “You been checkin’ out my tight little bod, kitten?” Spike placed his hands on his waist and drew Buffy’s attention to his prominent bulge. He couldn’t believe his luck and studied her face, memorising the moment for future indulgence.

Buffy’s only response was an enigmatic grin as she cocked her head to the side and subconsciously mirrored his pose. No sound passed her lips, but the look of pure sin that flashed in her eyes said more than spoken words ever could. Perhaps the unfamiliar flutter in his chest was fear, and maybe it was hope, nevertheless, Spike was certain he felt his long-dead heart beat back to life, pounding along in rhythm with hers. Nervously, he cleared his throat, grimacing as his cock jumped to attention within his jeans.

God if she only knew what she was doing to him.

His demon roared and bellowed for vocalisation of the words he so desperately craved. To demand clarity once and for all, for the hope that escalated within his tormented mind. Determinedly, the inner poet curbed the vampire’s impulsiveness, swallowing his questions rather than risk dismissal through his imprudence. Buffy was leading this dance, and he didn’t want to overstep some unwritten boundary now that things looked so promising between them.

Buffy performed a cursory scan of her surroundings and the smile on her lips faded. Her slayer senses told her they were alone, but she was aware of a palpable shift in the air that surrounded them. Avoiding Spike’s all-too-knowing gaze, Buffy swallowed past the lump in her throat and once again stared ahead of her.

“I miss her,” she said in a hushed tone, as she absent-mindedly toed her boot into the soft ground beneath her feet. “She always knew just what to say to make it all better. When I was little she just had to tell me that everything would be alright and I believed her because... because it was _her._ ”

There was no need to ask of whom she spoke. The far-away look returned to her eyes during her short speech, and there was a noticeable tremor in her whispered voice. Buffy hung her head and heaved a deep sigh as she willed away the tears that burned behind her tired eyes. In one fluid movement, Spike rose from his seated position and knelt before the exhausted Slayer. Her hands were folded in her lap and without hesitation; Spike laced their fingers together as he forced her tearful eyes to meet his.

His touch never failed to calm her, and regardless of her avid self-denial, Buffy understood that she couldn’t lie to herself forever. The warmth in Spike’s eyes kept reaching out to extend into her, through her; and the Slayer couldn’t fight the way he made her feel.

Spike inhaled a deep and unnecessary breath as she gifted him with a watery smile. “She was a mighty fine woman, your Mum; reminded me a lot of my own.” His tone was measured, but Spike was unable to disguise the involuntary flinch at the mention of his Mother. Buffy’s eyes widened as she searched his solemn features. Spike had never before spoken of his family and it was hard to imagine him as a human. On the one occasion that Buffy ventured to broach the subject of his pre-vampire days, she was met with a stony silence that left no room for debate. It was difficult to picture the bleached vampire as someone’s son or brother... husband?

_Whoa, and so not going there!_

“I spent a bit of time with her and the Niblet. I’d pop by some nights... When you were out on patrol.” Buffy watched as an anxious smile curled his lips and he glanced down in uncharacteristic shyness. Her mom had neglected to mention his friendly visitations, and it was obvious he was gauging her reaction to this apparent betrayal.

“Joyce was a good friend. Always had a hot cup of cocoa waiting for me... I miss our little chats. Your Mum, she... she didn’t judge me or treat me like a...” Spike swallowed hard and wet his suddenly dry lips. “I miss her too.”

His confession didn’t come as much of a revelation to Buffy. It was no secret that Joyce had a soft spot for the chipped vampire. And despite her daughter’s numerous warnings, her mother always insisted that Spike just needed someone to take care of him. On countless occasions, Buffy returned from her nightly patrol to find three empty hot chocolate mugs rinsing in the kitchen sink, and a half-eaten packet of marshmallows in the cupboard.

Despite her initial reservations, Buffy was confident that he would never actually hurt her family. Regardless of the chip, Buffy had long since ceased to view Spike as a serious danger—an annoying pain in the ass, definitely—but the stuff of nightmares? Not so much. Against his demonic nature, he persistently fought by her side, and on occasion, Buffy enlisted his help to protect her mom and sister from Glory’s wrath. Admittedly, Spike’s ill-advised declaration of love had terrified her at the time, but it was only now with hindsight that Buffy could admit to fearing the depth of her own feelings more so than his.

Her chequered history with men of the undead persuasion had taken its toll on the Slayer, but it was astonishing that her mom openly despised Angel, and yet welcomed Spike as a long-lost son. Buffy’s thoughts returned to the present when his gentle hands squeezed hers reassuringly, and she offered him a wan smile in response. Her vampire never failed to surprise her—

And since when did she start thinking of Spike as hers?

His eyes flashed with amusement and he relinquished his firm grip to stand before her. “You know, pet,” he said, taking a step back, “Joyce always looked out for you, made me promise that I’d keep an eye on you and the Bit. Help out with patrol and all that rot... even if you were actin’ like a right bitch at the time.”

The teasing glint in his eyes was enough to prevent Buffy from taking any real offence at his comment, and she was unable to fight the small smile that tugged at her lips. “I was _not_ acting like a bitch!” she said, with an appropriate amount of righteous indignation. “ _Well,_ not _all_ the time anyway. And besides, what with your stalker routine, I think I was entitled to be a bit freaked don’t you?”

“Hey now, give a poor vamp a break,” Spike said, as he ran a hand through his unruly curls. “It’s not every day a bloke falls for his arch enemy!”

“Well you sure had an interesting way of getting my attention,” Buffy replied, with a smirk to rival his own. “I mean seriously, stealing my underwear. What’s up with that?”

“Um, hello. Vampire here.” Spike grinned unrepentantly and punctuated his words with a sarcastic wave. “What did you expect, flowers and a bloody picnic? You wouldn’t give me the time of day. How else was I supposed to tell you I loved you?”

“Spike, you chained me to a wall and threatened to let your psycho ex take a bite out of me!”

“Yeah, well... at least it was _memorable,_ ” he murmured, as he stuck his bottom lip out in an action reminiscent of a petulant child.

Buffy stared at him in mystified silence; there really was no argument to his twisted logic. A soft laugh filtered from between her lips and she shook her head in bemusement. “I still can’t believe mom didn’t tell me about all this.”

Spike moved to the side of the swing set, stretching his arms above his head to hold onto the metal support beams. The action caused the front of his black t-shirt to rise up, revealing a glimpse of his taut physique. Self-consciously, Buffy flushed an enchanting shade of pink and tore her eyes away from his toned stomach, only to meet the cocky grin of the highly amused vampire.

“Like what you see, love?” Buffy rolled her eyes at his shameless posturing, and Spike continued softly, “I don’t know why you’re so surprised, pet. You Summers’ women have me wrapped round your bloody little fingers! I’d do anything for you chits. You should know that by now.” Spike watched as the full effect of his words took effect, and a tender smile graced his lips as he gazed into the emotional maelstrom of Buffy’s eyes. “Don’t you go repeatin’ that to anyone though,” he said, pointing an emphatic finger in warning. “I’ve still got a reputation to maintain ‘round these parts.”

A sudden laugh burst from Buffy’s throat and she blinked back the unforeseen tears that inundated her eyes. “Oh, please,” she said. “Any badass reputation you had is long gone, and you know it!”

Spike released his hold on the bars and reclaimed his position on the other swing seat. “Bleedin’ hell, woman, kick a vamp while he’s down, yeah.” Deliberately, he angled his body towards her, reaching out his hand to swipe the salty tears from her cheek with his thumb. Spike looked at her in something akin to awe; his gaze, tender as it stroked her skin in the same gentle manner as his hand.

“God, I’m such a mess,” Buffy said, as she fought to regain control of her emotions. “Why do you put up with me?”

“You know why,” Spike replied, never breaking eye contact. “I love you.”

“But—”

“Don’t even bother, slayer,” he interrupted, growling deeply in his throat.

All of a sudden, the vampire’s voice had a hard edge to it—a quality that had been lacking since her return. “I swear, if you start spouting that ‘demons can’t love’ bollocks...” Pausing, Spike inhaled a calming breath and raised his chin in defiance. “You can spin that yarn a thousand different ways, pet, and it still won’t make rot. I was with Dru for over a century, and it sure as hell wasn’t for her conversation skills, I can tell you.”

Swallowing hard, Spike summoned his wavering courage and continued his spontaneous outburst. He may be love’s bitch, but the vampire was nobody’s lapdog, and he was determined to make Buffy realise it. “She made me the man I am,” he said, moderating his tone, “but you made me the man I want to be. And before you play that tired old tune again, no, I don’t have a soul, but I don’t bloody well need one either. Unlike the great git, I didn’t need a curse to make me a better man. I changed because I wanted to, not because I had to.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Buffy’s wide-eyed expression caught him off guard, and in confusion, Spike searched her gaze for answers. “I believe you, I do... but I still don’t understand why?”

Her questioning tone conveyed her genuine curiosity and Spike stared at her dumbfounded. After several seconds, his eyes widened comically as he fully comprehended her concerns. “Why did I fall in love with you?”

A hesitant nod was his only response and he cocked his head in appraisal. “Maybe because you were everything I wasn’t supposed to want,” he said, curling his lips into a sardonic smile. “So bloody heroic and beautiful, that when you’re a demon like me, it hurts to even look at something as magnificent as you.”

Buffy remained silent as Spike searched her inquisitive gaze, in awe of the emotions that warred behind her eyes. “I can’t tell you why it happened, pet. Hell, I can’t even tell you when it started. Crept into my heart, you did. Burrowed so bloody far inside that I can’t remember ever havin’ not loved you.” Tenderly, his fingers moved to tuck a wayward blonde lock behind her ear. “I know it’s not natural, love, but God only knows what draws two people together, yeah?”

Spike’s eyes shone with undisguised affection as he regarded the petite Slayer. “Half the time you’re so bloody frustrating I want to beat your head against the wall, and the rest of the time I want to bundle you in my arms and just get you the hell away from this cursed town.” Spike chuckled quietly, but his eyes were sombre and intense. “Dru called you the sunshine,” he said, smiling wistfully. “Nutty as a fruitcake, my sire, but I can’t fault her when it comes to her visions. You were like a beacon, you see. Pulled me in… dragged me kickin’ and screamin’ all the way of course, but in the end I couldn’t escape your light.”

All traces of playfulness left his sober features, and Spike’s lips pressed together to form a tight knitted frown. “But now,” he said, “I look at you, and there’s something dark cloudin’ those pretty green eyes that rips at my gut. I see how much you’re hurtin’, Buffy, and it kills me to watch you in so much pain and not....” Spike’s words trailed off and he pressed his palm against the side of her face, watching, as Buffy’s lips curved into a warm smile and she nuzzled her cheek against his affectionate touch. “There’s no twelve step program to deal with somethin’ like this, love, but I made a promise to a lady and I intend to keep it. I’m not goin’ anywhere, Buffy. I swear I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

A low chortle rumbled from between his lips and Spike grinned as he continued to stare into her tear-filled eyes. “And I don’t care how many bloody times you tell me to go away. I’m in this for the long haul. There’s no gettin’ rid of me. Ever.”

Buffy’s head rested in the supportive cup of his left hand, as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up of her own volition, and she swallowed audibly at his words. “I know it’s not the same comin’ from me, love, but believe me when I say everything will be alright. We’ll get through this together, I promise. I know you’re afraid, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that, Buffy?”

Spike held his needless breath as he watched the emotions play over her delicate features. A wave of apprehension swept throughout his body and his undead heart thundered in his chest as he awaited her momentous decision.

Thoughtfully, Buffy gazed at Spike, disregarding her training to see past the demon to the remarkable man within. Nervous tension bunched the muscles of his neck, fear and trepidation tightened his hand’s grip, but his eyes held nought but undisguised love and honesty. A fresh deluge of tears washed over her cheeks and it felt as if an immense pressure receded from her chest. For the first time since her severance from paradise, Buffy felt that there was indeed hope of redemption. A path that led from the murky shadows of hopelessness.

She gifted him with an affectionate smile and brought her small hand up to cover the one that rested at her cheek. Without thought to the wider implications of her declaration, Buffy entwined her slender fingers with his and gazed deep into his eyes, willing him to see the truth of her four simple words.

“I trust you, Spike.”


	3. Amor est vitae essential - Love is the essence of life.

“I’m sorry.”

Of all the words to leave Buffy’s mouth tonight, those were certainly the least expected.

Spike inhaled sharply and stared in confusion at the sincerity that overshadowed her features. “What the bloody hell for?” he asked, incredulous that she felt the need to apologise to him. Surely he must have misheard her. What on earth could she possibly feel the need to repent for?

“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did," she said, visibly struggling to articulate her thoughts. “Since I’ve been back, my friends... I know they’re worried about me but I just can’t—they make me feel so...” Buffy’s words faded away and she ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation. “God, I’m no good at this talking thing.”

Slowly, Spike raised her hand to his mouth, dropping an affectionate kiss against her knuckles. “You’re doing fine, sweetheart,” he said. “Take your time. We’ve got all night.”

Encouraged by the patient resonance of his voice, Buffy inhaled a deep breath and started again. “You’re the only one who’s kept me sane since the resurrection. Willow and Xander are constantly asking me if I’m okay. If I forgive them for what they did. And every time they ask, I’m forced to put on a fake smile and act grateful when all I want to do is curse and scream and make them tell me what the hell they were thinking by bringing me back!”

Her lips curved into a sad smile, and she gently squeezed his hand. It was important that she get this out. The anger she felt towards her friends was like a white-hot ball of fire. It constricted her throat, preventing her words of umbrage from reaching fruition. If she was to positively move on with her life, there could be no more secrets between herself and the extraordinary vampire.

“You don’t pressure me or try to change me into something I’m not. It feels like I’ve spent the last five years on a pedestal and now everyone expects me to be fun Buffy again, as if my unhappiness is an inconvenience to them.” The bitterness in her tone was unmistakeable as she gamely forged ahead. “When I’m with you... I don’t have to pretend anymore. You see me, Spike. As much as I may hate it at times, you see right through my act. And that means so much more to me than I can ever say.”

Spike listened to her heartfelt speech in astonishment as unforeseen words of gratitude poured from between her lips. It was only when his vision became impaired that Spike noticed the moisture that brimmed in his eyes. Tears had become his constant companion over the summer, and noticing that he was crying was no longer any more note-worthy than recognising his hunger or the routine setting of the sun.

Swallowing hard, Spike stroked his thumb over the back of her hand and blinked against the tears that threatened to spill over.

“You’ve got nothin’ to apologise for, love.” Spike’s tone was subdued and he looked away as if ashamed. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this God-awful situation in the first place.”

Bewilderment washed over the Slayer as she absorbed his uncomfortable demeanour. Spike had previously confessed that he felt responsible for her death. At the time, Buffy was too numb to respond effectively, but recent events gave her unique insight to the inner workings of his mind, and the need to correct him was imperative.

“It’s like I told you the other night, pet. If I’d been faster or smarter, if I’d just done something— _anything_ different...” A deep sigh escaped from his lips, and Spike continued hesitantly, his shoulders visibly shaking under the weight of his words. “If I’d got your little sis down from there, you wouldn’t have had to jump in the first place... I let you down.”

“Spike! That’s not true, you—“

“I promised you, Buffy,” he interrupted. “I swore that I would protect her.”

“And you did!”

Spike shook his head, adamant in his refusal to believe her words. His mind was overcome with fragmented images of that fateful night. He could see it all so clearly. Dawn, bound and helpless atop the tower. The catastrophic breach of that hell-bitch’s bloody dimension portal, and Buffy... God, Buffy—

“Christ, pet,” Spike gasped and raised his head to meet Buffy’s concerned gaze. “Seeing you there, lying in the light where I couldn’t reach you. I wanted to dust... I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to hold you and wait for the sun to burn me up, leave this piece of shit town for the bloody vultures to pick over.” In the overwrought recesses of his mind, Spike knew it was unwise to mention her sacrificial death, but the floodgates had opened, and he was unable to impede the torrent of emotions that swept through him. “I couldn’t face the thought of a world without you in it. I don’t even know who dragged me away that mornin’.” Spike paused as a shudder wracked his tense body. “Truth be told, pet, I don’t remember much of those first few days. I just wanted to get blind stinkin’ drunk and forget.” A solitary tear won its bid for freedom and coursed down his cheek. Spike swiped at the offending moisture and gave a self-depreciating shrug. “Didn’t work though, every bloody time I closed my eyes I pictured your face. Every night... every night I saved you.”

His shoulders hunched as Spike retreated further into his haunted memories. “I visited your grave,” he whispered. “Each night—after patrol, I’d walk by and hate myself even more, knowin’ that I could have stopped it, knowin’ it was my fault. If I’d gotten your sis away from that bitch—if I hadn’t bollocksed everythin’ up.” The expression on Spike’s face was pure, unadulterated anguish as he berated himself for his misconceived failure. “If I’d done as you bloody well asked of me, then you wouldn’t have had to jump. And then your stupid, soddin’ mates wouldn’t have raised you... and you wouldn’t be hurtin’ so much now. It’s my—”

“Spike, look at me.” Buffy brought her palm beneath his chin forcing his eyes to meet hers. “You protected my sister with your life. You stood up to Glory. You did as I asked. Dawn’s alive. You took care of her and you kept taking care of her when I was... gone.”

Buffy couldn’t bring herself to use the word, _dead._ In light of the progress she’d made this night, that term seemed almost malevolent. An ominous portent that threatened to draw her back into the vacuous oblivion of despair.

Buffy sighed, gazing into the vulnerability that swam in his eyes. “The First Slayer told me that death is my gift. I think a part of me knew my time was up, even before I stepped foot on that damn tower. I can’t explain how, Spike, but I knew I could trust you to take care of her if I...”

Buffy’s thumb traced the angular contours of Spike’s face as he swallowed hastily in a valiant effort to fight back his tears. “Dawn told me what you did over the summer. How you stayed with her... helped her cope. How you patrolled with my friends and kept them safe.” Buffy paused as she considered their recent song and dance extravaganza. “And have you forgotten that you saved my life the other night?”

“From Sweet?” Spike shrugged, dismissing his significant role as he cast his gaze downwards, refusing to meet her eyes. “If I hadn’t stepped in, then someone else would have.”

“Nobody else even tried,” she whispered, desperate to make him see reason. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be a big ol’ pile of ash!” Buffy’s brow furrowed as she considered the irony of a vampire saving the Slayer from a dusty fate, and chuckling, she shook her head. “You were the one who did all that stuff, Spike. _You._ Face it, somewhere along the line, the Big Bad has turned noble. Sounds like you’re officially a white hat now.”

The look of alarm that flashed in the vampire’s eyes was almost comical, and Buffy’s lips curved into a wide smirk. Mimicking his position, the Slayer tilted her head to the side and burst into riotous giggles at Spike’s admonishing growl. “Ooh... Angel’s gonna be _pissed,_ ” she said in a singsong voice.

As was often the case, the mental image of the Great Git wearing a face like a slapped arse brought an instant smirk to Spike’s mouth. Buffy noticed the involuntary action and her lips broke into a knowing smile.

“I’m not soddin’ noble,” Spike murmured, kicking at the ground impetuously. “I’m a vampire, not a bloody white knight.”

“Really?” Buffy fought to stifle her amusement. “Well answer me this, Spike. How many vamps would sit through an evening of chick flicks just to make the Slayer’s kid sister happy? How many would let Dawn paint their nails just because she used the kicked puppy routine?”

Spike frowned and hid the aforementioned fingernails within his clasped fist. Okay, maybe the chit had a valid point but still...

“I’m curious,” Buffy said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “How many times did Dawn make the big bad vampire watch Titanic, anyway?”

Spike groaned as her well-chosen words pulled him out of his maudlin state of mind. “God, pet, don’t bloody remind me! What is it with you birds and that DiCaprio poof, huh? I swear if I have to hear the Niblet spoutin’ off about the purity of their soddin’ love bollocks one more time...” He took in the self-satisfied grin on his girl’s face and shook his head in reluctant defeat. “Sneaky bint.”

“Made you smile.”

“That you did, love.” Spike reached up to remove Buffy’s hand from his cheek, enfolding it in his firm grip. A rich chuckle fell from his lips and he was taken aback by their surprise role reversal. “Least I got the Bit to watch Passions with me. Reckon that’s something.”

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy said, sniggering at his indignant glare. “That show’s definitely _something._ ”

“Oi, watch it Summers.” Spike replied, as reluctantly, his lips quirked into an enthusiastic grin. “That show’s a bloody classic! Emmy winnin’ material, that is.”

She blessed him with an indulgent smile. “So what’s the excuse for the Sex Pistols CDs lying around her room then?”

Spike snorted in disgust. “What can I say, love? That girl has no bleedin’ taste. Got sick of listenin’ to that pathetic excuse she calls music, so I figured I’d expand her horizons.”

“Did it work?” Buffy asked, already knowing the answer.

“Did it hell! That chit’s more bloody stubborn than you are.”

“Hey!” she replied, “I am not stubborn, I’m just... set in my ways.”

“Uh, huh.” A teasing smirk curled Spike’s lips as he raised a scarred eyebrow in silent rebuttal. “Sing me another one, pet. That one’s got bells on.”

Buffy relaxed as the playfulness returned to Spike’s eyes. Their effortless slip into familiar banter had visibly diminished the tension in his tightly coiled body, and the Slayer felt a sense of achievement at this seemingly arduous feat. “You did a good thing, Spike. You took care of Dawn when she needed you most.” Angling her body towards him, Buffy placed her hand on his arm, and even through a layer of black leather, her touch warmed him, branding him as hers and hers alone. Teasingly, she licked her lips, and a spark of mischief shone in Buffy’s eyes as she flashed him a smirk that rivalled his own most sinful offering. “Just think of yourself as her Big Bad Babysitter.”

“Oi!” Spike’s shout of protest splintered the ambient silence of the night. “Less of the bleedin’ cheek or I’ll show you just how bad I can be.”

The musical lilt of Buffy’s giggle was enough to make Spike’s long-dead heart thunder in his chest. He watched with undisguised awe as she threw her head back, highly amused by his indignant objection. This was a Buffy he’d never had the privilege of interacting with before. Throughout their relationship, her smiles and jokes were reserved for her friends, not the annoying soulless vamp in the background. How things could change so fundamentally in such a short period of time, he would never understand. But one thing was certain, for the bestowal of these few cherished moments, Spike would be eternally grateful to a God who had long since forsaken him.

”She really loves you.” Buffy’s voice was little more than a whisper, and Spike detected the sudden increase of her heart rate. He watched, transfixed, as her cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of pink and something unreadable passed over her eyes. Hurriedly, Buffy averted her gaze and released her affectionate hold on Spike’s arm. Despite her heart’s cautious inclination to hazard a relationship with another vampire, her Slayer mentality wasn’t quite ready to take that final leap of faith. Spike considered her abrupt withdrawal, and studied her with such intense scrutiny that Buffy could feel his eyes on her despite her refusal to meet his all too perceptive gaze.

“Buffy?” Spike’s tone was laced with insecurity and he swallowed audibly as he decided how best to voice his suspicions. “What… How do—”

“I wanted to kill myself,” Buffy froze, eyes widening in horror, as her words caused a palpable shift in the air around them. Where they came from she didn’t know, but in her haste to avoid Spike’s anticipated question, the Slayer blurted out the one secret that remained concealed from him.

She knew his preternatural senses would detect her body’s traitorous reaction and hoped to distract him before he could quiz her further. Granted, confessing her suicidal considerations was very much not of the good, but the words had erupted from Buffy’s mouth without conscious thought and it was impossible to take them back. So yeah, in hindsight, probably not the best move, but at least it was out there—at least he knew. Nervously, she watched as Spike’s sun-deprived features adopted a considerably more ashen tone, and a look of sheer panic flared in his eyes as he silently regarded her.

“The first night,” Buffy continued quietly, unable to meet his worried gaze. “I dug my way out and everything was so chaotic... I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to be here, I just wanted to get back.”

Upon her disclosure, Spike’s good humour disappeared instantaneously as an iron grip of terror constricted his heart. His useless lungs felt paralysed at the thought of losing his goddess for a second instance. He’d barely survived her death the first time. If she left him again, there was no power on earth that could keep him rooted to an existence without her by his side. He entertained no delusions that he would see Buffy again in whatever afterlife awaited him. When his time was up, Spike was headed for an eternity of the hellish torment he’d so liberally dished out over the years.

Of that he was certain.

He’d try his damnedest to endure for Dawn’s sake, but deep down Spike knew the sweet lure of oblivion would prove insurmountable... even if Buffy was guaranteed to haul his sorry arse up to heaven and kick his unworthy self from one side of those pearly gates to the other.

“I climbed back up Glory’s tower.” The Slayer’s eyes were dull and distant as the memories of that dreadful night played through her mind like a macabre slide show, and a bittersweet smile tugged at Buffy’s lips as she remembered her sister’s pleaded words. “Dawn talked me down, told me I had to be strong... that she needed me.” A sudden shiver wracked her petite frame and Spike reached out his hand to move her blonde tresses away from her face. She offered him a tremulous smile and took his hand in hers. Carefully, Buffy laced their fingers together and gained enough strength from the simple connection to continue her divulgence.

“The tower was collapsing around us but all I could think about was jumping. I thought I was in hell... I didn’t want...” Shaking her head, Buffy raised her eyes to meet Spike’s watery gaze, “It was all so clear the first time. The portal was open and my blood would close it. The math was simple enough even for the brain of Buffy to understand.” She gave a self-depreciating shrug and a small smile curled her lips as optimism returned to her voice. “And on that bizarre note of extreme unthinkyness... am I seriously trying to tell a vampire about the significance of blood?”

Spike couldn’t help the small chuckle that burst from his throat as he remembered the speech he gave to the annoying whelp all those months ago.

_Blood is life, lackbrain. Why do you think we eat it? It’s what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead._

“Blood is life.” Spike said, mimicking his internal discourse.

Buffy smiled sadly and pictured her sister clinging desperately to the unstable structure. “With Glory, I died so that Dawn could live. But that night—she wouldn’t have made it down the tower on her own. I had to save her. She needed me.”

“Still does,” Spike said, as her words caused an ominous shadow of foreboding to cloud his brain. “Niblet needs her big sis, pet.” Spike was hesitant to ask the question at the forefront of his thoughts, but he needed to be sure, as much for his own peace of mind as hers. “Buffy, do...” he paused, unable to disguise the anxiety in his voice. “Christ, pet, you don’t still feel that way do you? I mean, you wouldn’t...”

Shaking her head, Buffy squeezed his hand and searched his eyes, marvelling at the concern that swam in their depths.

“No, I don’t,” she said, her voice even and sincere. Determinedly, Buffy met his gaze, willing him to see the certainty of her words. “I found something worth living for.”


	4. La., amoris vulnis idem sanat qui facit - The wounds of love are cured by love itself.

They sat in comfortable silence, each unwilling to broach the subject of Buffy’s statement lest their newfound openness suffer as a consequence. For his part, Spike was becoming increasingly certain that he was dreaming. That he was passed out on his crypt floor and sleeping off a major whiskey binge. Come tomorrow, the only thing he’d have to show for this extraordinary night would be a stiff neck and a painful soddin’ hangover.

To his astonishment, Buffy had expressed thoughts and emotions the likes of which he never dared hope would pass her lips. God help him if this was indeed an alcohol-induced hallucination, because Spike had no earthly idea how he could possibly carry on as normal.

_Or what passed for normal on a Hellmouth at least._

“Sometimes I forget how simple life used to be.”

Spike was pulled from his speculative musings by the sound of Buffy’s voice. Soft and wistful, she sounded like the teenager he first met upon his arrival to good old Sunnyhell. Smiling gently, he turned to face her side on. “Before dying?”

“Before Sunnydale,” she replied. “Before my calling. Before everything. I used to wish that I’d never been chosen, that I could have stayed a regular teenager.” Buffy sniggered and mirrored his position on the swing. “But then I’d remember what sort of person I was back then and think maybe being the Slayer isn’t so bad after all.”

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow in silent query. “Sorry, sweets, didn’t follow you round that bend. You’ve always seemed the same to me. Stubborn, tenacious, faithful to a fault. Maybe a bit on the naive side where the Great Ponce is concerned. And granted, most of the bloody time I saw you as a pain in my arse but still... ”

“Spike!” Buffy suppressed a grin and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “Quit while you’re ahead, huh?”

His mouth broke into a blinding smile as hope lit up his features. “I’m ahead?”

Ignoring his thinly veiled question, Buffy’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she considered his rambled words. “You thought that? Even when you were trying to kill me?”

“Can’t say as I ever really tried that hard.” Spike heaved a dramatic sigh and cocked his head to the side. “I’ve bested two Slayers in my time, sweetheart. If I really wanted you dead back then, don’t you think I’d have found a way?”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Buffy’s bottom lip formed an adorable pout. “And here I thought I was just that good.”

Her sarcastic comment brought a rich chuckle to Spike’s lips. “You are that damn good, love. Truth be told, you’re the best I’ve ever seen.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and was rewarded by a smile. “Despite everythin’ we’ve been through, the fact remains we’re both still standing. Well, sitting as the case may be. I knew you were something special from the start.” Spike stroked his thumb over the back of her hand and fixed a cocky smirk to his handsome face. “Now quit postponin’ and let’s hear it. What was so terrible about pre-slayer Buffy?”

Frowning, she met his eyes and said in a flat deadpan, “I made Harmony look like a humanitarian.”

Spike was unable to suppress his wince at the mention of his ditzy ex. Buffy caught the involuntary action and shifted her weight to nudge against his shoulder. “Aww, what’s the matter, Blondie Bear?” she asked, smiling sweetly at his good-natured growl. “That image too much for the Big Bad to handle?”

A devilish smirk curled his lips as Spike swept his eyes over Buffy’s body in a fiery caress. His hands travelled to rest at his belt buckle and he swiped his tongue seductively over his blunt human teeth. “Better watch it, little girl, or I’ll show you exactly what this vamp can _handle!_ ” He grinned again as Buffy’s eyes were irresistibly drawn towards his confined bulge and she flushed an attractive shade of pink. “And for the record, there is no bloody way you could have been as bad as that daft twit. How the silly bint didn’t manage to stake herself, I’ll never know!”

Spike’s _relationship_ with the scatter-brained vampire was not one of his proudest achievements. In truth, she was nothing more than a convenient place to put his dick when he needed a shag. Nevertheless, Spike was a man first and foremost, and what Harmony lacked in mental prowess, she more than made up for in the titty department. At a time when his thoughts were monopolised by a certain perky young slayer, Harmony’s talents in the bedroom were the only reason that Spike tolerated her presence at all. The only time the girl ever quit yapping was when her lips were wrapped around his cock. Although in the end, her constant yammering about clothes and soddin’ unicorns wasn’t worth the endless supply of enthusiastic blowjobs she provided.

Buffy laughed at the apt description of the incompetent vampiress, although the sharp stab of jealousy she felt at the idea of Spike ever having touched the blonde moron diminished her fun considerably. It wasn’t hard to imagine the basis of their relationship. They sure as hell weren’t discussing politics on those long lonely nights, but how dare someone like Harmony experience what was so stringently denied to her.

_The only one in denial is you, her inner voice piped up. Take a page out of Faith’s book; take what you want. Be happy. You deserve it!_

“Buffy, love.” Spike was suddenly struck by the need to explain himself. “There was nothin’ real between me an’ Harm. You know that, yeah? She was just some tarty substitute for the one person I really wanted—the one I thought I couldn’t have. Much the same as that bloody bot.”

_Bollocks._

Spike hadn’t intended to mention that monstrosity ever again. How he could have thought to replicate his goddess with that jumbled mess of wire and plastic was ridiculous. Sure, he’d used it to get his rocks off, but it soon served as a bitter reminder that Buffy was far beyond his pitiful reach. Sensing that the Slayer was no more inclined to discuss it than he was, the vampire rushed to change the subject.

“So, is that why you came here then,” Spike asked as he looked around the abandoned playground, determined to ignore his slip. “Tryin’ to relive your childhood?”

Appreciating his discretion, Buffy shrugged and followed his exploratory gaze. “Maybe… I didn’t think about it at the time. I just didn’t want to go home.”

Spike straightened his legs and folded his arms against his chest, the epitome of seriousness on a child’s plaything. “Want to know what I think?”

Buffy stifled the laugh that bubbled within her at the amusing spectacle he presented, and looked him square in the eye. “Enlighten me.”

“I think you’re scared.”

“That’s—”

“Bloody terrified in fact.”

“Spike, I’m the Slayer. I don’t do scared.”

“Whatever you say, goldilocks. We’ll settle for overwhelmed then shall we?”

The intended protest died on Buffy’s lips as Spike surveyed their rundown surroundings.

“Reckon you played in a park like this when you were nothin’ but a bitty Buffy,” he said. “Back before you were called. Back before you became the chosen saviour of puppies and bloody Christmas. I figure being here makes you feel safe.”

He watched the emotions shift over her face but Buffy made no effort to refute his claims. Emboldened, Spike gestured towards the wrought iron railings that ran around the perimeter of the park. Rusted and weather-beaten, but solid as the day is long.

“That fence over there, it keeps everyone else away, doesn’t it, love?” Without breaking her gaze, Spike smiled knowingly and tilted his head to the side. “Nobody on at you. No rules. No demands. Just those you place on yourself. An’ I think you came here to try an’ remember what it felt like to be that little blonde cutie without the weight of the world on her shoulders.” Winking, he shrugged nonchalantly. “Or maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe you just didn’t fancy another round of earache from your chums.”

Buffy stared at him open-mouthed, as effortlessly, Spike managed to sum up her intentions in three simple sentences. “Okay, Doctor Freud,” she replied, “since when did you get so insightful?”

Spike threw his head back and a riotous bark of laughter tore from his throat. With casual grace, he rose from his swing and moved to stand behind her. His fingers covered Buffy’s small digits where they rested, wrapped securely around the chains, and leaning forward, he whispered teasingly in her ear. “Oh, slayer, I’m a man of _many_ talents.”

His cool breath tickled the back of her neck and Buffy felt a shiver course down her spine at his renewed proximity. With deliberate ease, he released her hands and placed his palms firmly on her slender waist. Buffy’s heart raced as Spike tightened his grip and drew the swing backwards until her torso was flush against his chest.

Slowly, Buffy turned her head until she met his intense gaze. “I’m starting to see that.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Spikes oh-so-kissable mouth and subconsciously, her tongue snuck out to wet her own bottom lip. She smiled as the action caused the vampire to groan softly. “Actually, that’s a lie,” she said. “I think I’m finally ready to admit it.”

“God, sweetheart.” Spike’s eyes were trained on the tantalising sight before him. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Coyly, Buffy searched his gaze. “I have a fairly good idea.” Smiling brightly, she wriggled in her seat. “Now quit staring, vampire, and make yourself useful!”

Chuckling, Spike took a step backwards and set the swing in motion.

“Hold on tight, Goldilocks.”

With one solid push, Buffy was propelled forward. She laughed as she soared back and forth. Within seconds, she was so high that the swing began to jerk at the apex of each ascent, as gravity briefly removed her weight from the seat.

“Higher!” she said, smiling as Spike’s hands met her lower back and sent her forward once more.

Buffy couldn’t believe this was happening. She felt like a kid again, free of responsibilities and never-ending duties. She couldn’t remember the last time she relaxed and had fun, and the fact that she was experiencing it with Spike was mindboggling.

“If I push you any higher you’ll go over the top!”

His eyes sparkled with undisguised merriment as Spike watched Buffy let go of her worries, albeit only temporarily. And in that moment he had never been prouder.

Buffy’s legs shot out in front and then curled beneath her as she clung securely to the chains. “Dare me to let go?” she asked.

Spike laughed in joyous relief, unable to resist taunting his golden goddess. “Watch it, love,” he said, pushing her again. “Wouldn’t want you to land on that pretty little face of yours!”

“Don’t worry about me, bleach boy!” Buffy giggled and shot him a look of pure determination as she arced through the air. “Okay, here goes,” she said, soaring forwards. “One... two... three!”

As the swing reached the zenith of its flight, Buffy released her grip and her vision blurred as she flew through the air. High above the ground, for the briefest of moments, she felt weightless and free. Her lungs ached, her heart pounded a relentless staccato in her chest and for the first time since her resurrection, she felt truly alive.

Legs bent for impact, Buffy hit the ground running. Her momentum carried her forward until she regained her balance and turned to face the smirking master vampire. Laughing, she met his euphoric gaze and marvelled at the emotion displayed in his eyes.

“Oh my God!” Buffy tried to calm her breathing, surprised at her own recklessness. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

Spike walked a few steps towards her, frowning when Buffy took a step back in response. However, his concern was instantly alleviated when a teasing grin appeared on her face and the Slayer took off running towards the slide. Taking the rungs of the metal ladder two at a time, Buffy quickly reached the top and sat down to stare at Spike who waited at the end of the chute.

A mysterious smile lit up her face as Buffy let her head fall back to look at the night sky. “Do you believe in fate?” she asked.

“Written in the stars?” Spike tilted his head to the side and considered his response. “I like to think I’m in control of my own future, but live as long as I have, you see all manner of weird an’ wonderful things.”

Instinctively, Spike’s mind was drawn to thoughts of his prophetic sire and Miss bloody Edith. Drusilla accurately predicted his love for the Slayer; long before the vampire himself realised his thoughts were of a decidedly un-fatal disposition. He’d fought ardently to renounce the unnatural truth, but as he contemplated the young woman before him, Spike wondered if his destiny was indeed inevitable.

Unhurriedly, Buffy tore her eyes from the starlit panorama above and proffered him a meaningful smile. “Sometimes I wonder if certain things are just meant to be, you know. If maybe I had to experience everything I have in order to really appreciate what I have in front of me now.”

Expectation conflicted with uncertainty as Spike considered the potential implications of her ambiguous statement. “Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” he said, inhaling deeply. Superfluous air filled his useless lungs, as Spike returned her evocative grin. Anxiously, he ran his hands through his tousled hair and met her forthright gaze. “I know bugger all ‘bout fate, love, but I can tell you one thing’s for sure. If I hadn’t met Dru all those years ago, I never would’ve been turned and made it to this Godforsaken town in the first place.”

Glimpses of his action-packed affiliation with the Slayer flashed through his mind, and Spike continued his step-by-step analysis of their entangled history. “What’s more,” he said, “if Angelus hadn’t reared his humungous soddin’ forehead I’d likely still be with her. I’d be out there someplace, raisin’ merry hell and snackin’ on human happy meals like any other respectable vampire.” Pausing momentarily, Spike watched the emotions war on Buffy’s features. “Hell, pet, if I didn’t have this bleedin’ chip messin’ with my head, Christ knows where we’d be now. Reckon you’d have likely staked me during some half-arsed evil stunt long ago.”

The Slayer felt the familiar ache of rejection spread throughout her stomach as she considered the inadvertent repercussions of her own actions on the enigmatic vampire. Tears welled in her tired eyes and she hung her head in dejection as her worst suspicions were seemingly confirmed. Why would Spike want to stick around and help save the world if he could be out there leading the anarchic life his demonic nature thrived on?

“Buffy, look at me, sweetheart.” Spike’s solemn tone broke through her fearful reverie and she blinked back her unbidden tears. “I don’t know where I would’ve ended up, and truthfully I couldn’t give a rat’s arse, because no matter the cost, I will never regret findin’ you.”

Instantaneously, her eyes shot up to meet his truthful expression. The unmitigated sincerity that shone in his eyes caused a solitary tear to spill down the apple of her cheek, and Buffy held her breath as Spike swallowed and continued unreservedly.

“Knowing you... lovin’ you, it turned my entire bloody life upside down. You made me want to change and be a better person. So fate or happenstance—call it what you will, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Buffy had cried her weight in tears since her return and she was damned sick of it; she doubted, however, that she had shed her last this night. Sniffling, she swallowed hard and forced her words past the impeding lump in her throat.

“Every time I allow myself to care for someone—” Her voice faltered and became little more than a fraught whisper. Slowly, Buffy inhaled a calming breath and tried again. “People always leave me, Spike. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I drive them away. Whatever it is, I clearly can’t keep them satisfied. Angel, Riley—God, even Parker couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

Spike inwardly seethed at the blatant insecurity the so-called men in her life had created. Her former lovers and even the girl’s own father had individually turned their backs and walked away—and from her broken words it appeared that Buffy assumed he would too. Reining in his furious demon, Spike summoned the fortitude to moderate his voice and continue in an even tone.

“Sweetling,” Spike maintained his determined gaze and willed her to see his earnestness. “Did you ever stop to think that the problem lay with those pillocks, and not you?”

Buffy’s brows furrowed in scepticism as she carefully considered his words.

“Riley was an insecure fool and a bloody idiot for doing what he did.” A lopsided grin appeared on his lips and Spike shrugged his shoulders in false indifference. “But let’s face it, love, three generations of farm-boy inbreedin’ is bound to mess with your head.”

The vampire prided himself at the reluctant smile that tugged at Buffy’s lips. What his girl ever saw in that gormless sod or his prancing arse of a grandsire, he would never understand, but as far as Spike was concerned, before long it wouldn’t matter. If he could make Buffy realise that they belonged together, he would worship the ground she walked on and make her forget those tossers ever existed.

“Peaches is an overbearing control freak who has far too many bloody issues to go into tonight.” Spike smirked and sent Buffy a flirtatious wink, “And just so we’re clear, Parker was a wanker. I’m amazed the prat managed to locate his own dick, let alone use it. They didn’t deserve you, Buffy.” Spike watched the conflicting emotions flit over her features and decided to lay it all on the line. “You’ve gotta get it through that stubborn head of yours, pet. Normal will never be enough for you. No matter how much you try an’ convince yourself otherwise.”

Her small smile blossomed into a radiant grin, and Buffy shook her head in amusement as a chuckle escaped from her throat. At the wondrous sight before him, Spike fought the overwhelming urge to rush forward and take her in his arms.

“I’m not like the others, love,” he whispered. “And you’re not going to scare me away.”

“But what if I’m not enough?” Buffy asked, her eyes awash with anxiety. “What if I can’t make you happy?”

Spike almost burst into hysterical laughter at her preposterous questions. The mere glimpse of a genuine smile aimed in his direction was enough to make his blood sing. Heaven only knew how it would feel to have his every wet dream fulfilled. Even so, the look in her eyes reminded him of a frightened doe staring down a deadly cougar, and baseless though her concerns may be, it was only the sight of her obvious vulnerability that stayed his tongue.

“I want to let go of my past,” she said in a pleading voice. “I do. I want to be happy—but I don’t know how.”

Swallowing hard, Spike found that he was panting as a residual part of his human psyche fought to drag unneeded air into his overwrought lungs. “There’s no quick fix, pet,” he said. “It’s going to take time but we’ll get through it. I don’t care how bloody long it takes, or how hard it gets—but whenever you’re ready, when you’re finally able to let go—I’ll be right here waitin’ to catch you.”

Buffy’s lips turned into a wavering smile as she wiped an errant tear from her cheek. “Okay, you need to stop doing that,” she said. “It’s bad enough that I’m an emotional mess, but the red-eyed snotty look... so not attractive.”

“You’re beautiful,” Spike replied, “even with the puffy eyes and mascara streaks.” Slowly he tilted his head to the side and gave her an appraising once over. “Although, now that you mention it I s’pose you do look pretty disgustin’...”

Buffy’s gasp of indignation caused him to snigger helplessly, and Spike was suddenly grateful that she was perched atop the slide and out of striking distance.

“Oh, bite me,” she said, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance.

“Love to, sweetheart,” he replied, curling his tongue over his teeth. “I’d make it so good for you—not like those piss poor excuse for vamps you’ve known before.” Spike’s eyes glazed over at the thought of burying himself, cock and fangs, inside Buffy’s welcoming body. Under a thrall, she’d slept right through Dracula’s bite. Old Bat Face and his poncy grandsire hadn’t cared whether she got off, but Spike knew that done right, he could make her see the stars.

Sobering, he regained his composure and offered her a brilliant smile. “Buffy, sweetheart.” Spike’s voice was devoid of his previous playful mocking; his piercing gaze fixed on her attentive eyes. “I swear I won’t disappoint you. If you let me into your life, I promise I’ll be the man you deserve.” Sighing, he looked down in uncharacteristic shyness. “I know I can’t offer you everythin’ a bloke with a pulse can but—”

“I don’t need those things, Spike,” Buffy replied softly. “It’s not like I was planning on 2.4 kids and a home with a white picket fence and scenic view of the Hellmouth.” She watched the range of emotions flit over his open features and smiled at the cautious happiness she saw there. “It doesn’t matter if your heart beats. I just need to know it’s mine.”

Spike sighed as the heavy weight of uncertainty lifted from his aching chest. “It’s yours, kitten, only yours. I don’t want anybody else.”

Buffy’s hands tightened on the smooth edges of the slide and she shuffled forwards, unsuccessfully fighting the fresh deluge of tears that brimmed in her eyes. “My heart’s a bit bruised and battered. I’ve built up walls and—”

“—I’ll break them down. Let me in, love, an’ I’ll cherish it. Won’t let it get hurt again, I swear.”

An icy gust of wind whipped her blonde hair around her face, and the Slayer watched as the first few drops of rain splashed down onto the metal framework. Smiling, she let her head fall backwards, watching the cool droplets fall from the heavens above. And as the precipitation landed on her forehead, Buffy closed her eyes, allowing the cleansing moisture to baptise her upturned face.

How could she fight her attraction when his mere presence made her ache and had her trembling? How could she win when such a big part of her wanted to lose, to give in and let Spike conquer her to the very last cell of her being?

Those brief seconds felt like an eternity for the highly-strung vampire. Empires rose and fell in the time it took for Buffy’s head to loll forward. A relaxed smile danced on her lips, and ever so slowly, she opened her eyes to meet his expectant gaze. Spike shuddered as a look of sheer determination flashed over her features, and abruptly, she looked back at the moonlit sky before propelling herself forward. The ride was over much too soon, and the Slayer found herself sitting at the bottom of the slide, staring into the fathomless eyes of her future. With slow deliberation, Spike moved towards her, and Buffy trembled as he reached out to smooth her displaced hair back behind her ear.

“We’re in this together, right?” Buffy asked in a shaky voice that exposed her nervousness.

“Forever,” Spike whispered as Buffy nuzzled her face against his cool palm, leisurely bringing her small hand up to cover his. Gazes fixed, the Slayer interlocked their fingers and deliberately leaned back against the cold metal of the slide. The expression on her face was that of sheer acceptance, and Spike’s heart threatened to burst from his chest. Unhurriedly, he leant over her prone body, supporting his weight with one hand above Buffy’s head.

Muscles locked, tense, and riddled with anxiety, Spike remained in a state of disbelief as Buffy gently squeezed the fingers at her cheek. Their lips were separated by nought but their mingled breath, and steadily, Buffy slid her hand up to rest at his leather clad shoulder.

“Tell me you love me,” she whispered against Spike’s mouth.

“I love you. You know I do.”

Teasingly, her fingers wandered through his soft curls as she breathed her words against his ear. “Tell me you want me.”

Buffy’s eyes fell to Spike’s supple lips.

“I always want you. In point of fact—”

The time for talking was over. Hungrily, Buffy smashed her mouth against his in a passionate embrace, impatiently nibbling at Spike’s bottom lip as she begged for admittance. The stunned vampire failed to respond immediately and Buffy nipped him gently in admonishment, quickly soothing the delicious pain with a sweep of her warm tongue. The action pulled Spike out of his astonished state and he returned her kiss with greedy fervour.

Breaking for air, Buffy rested her forehead against his and watched as Spike’s heavy lidded eyes fluttered open.

“I want you too.”


	5. Vive hodie - Live today (not tomorrow)

Cradled in the cold metal of the slide, Buffy groaned as Spike shifted his body to lie between her welcoming thighs. Thankfully, his weight felt comfortable upon her, as opposed to the hulking forms of Angel or Riley. Shaking all unwelcome thoughts of former lovers from her head, Buffy wrapped her legs around their perfectly aligned hips, and ground her centre against—

_Whoa, hello there!_ Buffy thought. _Add another tick to the Spike lovage column._

Warmth spread throughout the Slayer’s body, as the cool hand at her cheek traced the contours of her arm before coming to rest at her slender waist. Her oxygen deprived lungs screamed for air, but Buffy was loath to end their embrace. Desperately, she tangled both hands in Spike’s silken hair, kissing him impatiently. A wave of light-headedness threatened to envelop her and she gasped as Spike broke their heated clinch, dropping a tender kiss to her exposed collarbone. Trembling with excitement, Buffy lay beneath his compact frame, panting heavily as her over-sensitised body fought to keep up with its passionate demands.

Despite the two layers of fabric between them, the searing heat of her sex caused Spike’s cock to harden. His mind was inundated with thoughts of how it would feel to bury himself deep within her body. Captivated, he imagined the exhilarating cries she would utter, the whispered words of encouragement and eventual pleas for mercy—the delicious sounds he had only ever dreamed her making as his cock thrust inside her.

“Sweetheart,” Spike murmured against her throat. “You’re too good to play with me, an’ I couldn’t bear it if...” His words faded into a hoarse whisper and he swallowed audibly. “Please, Buffy, don’t give me this if you’re plannin’ to take it away again. You know how I feel, yeah?”

A tender smile graced her lips as she whispered against his cheek. “You love me.”

Sighing deeply, Spike brushed a kiss across her forehead and raised his eyes to implore her. “You can’t tell me you want this an’ then say there’s nothin’ between us. I need you to be sure, pet. ‘Cause if we do this, I’ll never let you go. You understand that, right?”

There was no mistaking the raw need in his voice, and Buffy’s heart ached when she heard it. She’d taken so much from him, and not once had he ever really asked for anything in return. Looking into Spike’s eyes it was suddenly all so simple, and she felt awful for not having given it to him sooner.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Spike.” Buffy relinquished her grip on his soft curls and cupped his face. One slender digit traced over his scarred eyebrow whilst her other hand gently smoothed over his cheekbone. “I’m not going to lie to you, my life is so with the confusing and scary right now... but I want this. I want you.” The resultant smile that lit up Spike’s features was enough to banish any residual doubts, and a sultry smirk appeared on Buffy’s lips. “I don’t know where this will lead us,” she said, leaning forwards to whisper in his ear. “But I bet we’ll have fun finding out.”

A low growl rumbled from the vampire’s throat, and in an instant, he brutally smashed his lips against hers. Ceaselessly, Spike’s hips moved in ever widening circles as he ground his aching erection against her heated centre, revelling as Buffy moaned wantonly into his mouth. “Too bloody right we will, kitten,” he said, nipping at the tender skin of her neck. “I won’t let you regret this, Buffy. Gonna show you how a real man treats his woman.”

“Yes!” The Slayer threw her head back and released a husky moan. “Spike, please.”

An anticipatory tremor wracked her tiny frame mere moments before Spike’s hungry mouth covered hers in an unyielding kiss that left no doubt of his intentions. This was the closest to heaven that Spike would ever reach, and he feasted upon her succulent lips like a man starved.

Buffy groaned as Spike’s hands trailed confidently over her body, and she arched into his talented hands as his actions caused a fire to ignite at her burning core. In response to the Slayer’s eager reactions, Spike banded his arms around Buffy’s waist, and felt her tremble as he hauled her roughly towards him. Closer, higher, he pressed the length of his body against hers and chuckled richly as Buffy squirmed beneath him whilst clutching his duster as if she feared the world would dare to steal him away.

With great effort, Spike pulled back to admire the sight before him. A self-satisfied smirk curled his lips as he marvelled at Buffy’s breathless whimper of complaint. Languidly, his eyes swept over her lithe body and lingered at the tempting swell of her breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. Cautiously, Spike slipped his hand under the hem of her top, gently brushing his fingertips against the sensitive skin of Buffy’s stomach. “You’re so hot, kitten... Gonna burn me to ashes, you will.”

In the obscure recesses of her mind, Buffy wondered how it was possible that Spike’s cool touch could set her skin aflame. However, this thought was quickly drowned out when he embarked on a detailed mapping of her body. With single-minded dedication, Spike set about discovering and exploring the places that made her moan and shudder, cataloguing her responses for future reference.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmured against her lips. “My Slayer... My Buffy... Mine.”

Impatient for more of the incredible sensations her vampire invoked, Buffy’s hands sought contact with Spike’s cool skin. Hurriedly, she yanked his black t-shirt upwards and raked her fingers down his muscled back. The sensual growl that spilt from his kiss ravaged lips caused shivers to race down Buffy’s spine. Unwaveringly she locked her gaze with his and slid her hands into Spike’s jeans to grasp his firm ass. Her fingernails dug into the fleshy globes as Buffy lifted her hips to grind against him, desperately seeking the necessary friction to soothe the fire within her burning body.

The exquisite combination of pleasure-laced pain caused Spike to wrench away from her mouth and let out a frustrated moan. Thrusting rhythmically against her, the vampire buried his face against the column of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating aroma. A possessive growl rumbled against her skin, and Buffy tightened her legs around his waist in reaction to his demon’s primal response.

“Fuck, pet!” Spike’s hands descended to her hips as he guided her movements. “Squeeze me tighter, kitten... Yeah that’s it. Can you feel how hard you make me? How much I want to bury myself inside your hot little body?”

Spike was adrift in a sea of sensation. The heady scent of Buffy’s arousal flooded his nostrils, and he was inundated by her breathy whimpers and moans. The air between them sizzled with barely restrained tension, and Spike groaned in relief when a soothing breeze whipped through the park, cooling Buffy’s fiery touch where it branded his pale flesh.

Lowering his head, he peppered Buffy’s exposed neck and collarbone with a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses. With determination, Spike nuzzled at her shirt until he was free to worship the exposed swell of her breasts, whilst simultaneously, his left hand cupped a lace covered mound. Pinching firmly, he rolled his thumb over Buffy’s encased nipple and rejoiced as the rosy bud puckered beneath his touch.

A bothersome voice resounded in Buffy’s head, insisting that this was quickly escalating out of control. Nevertheless, as Spike ran his tongue along the outer shell of her ear and nibbled at the lobe, Buffy realised that it would take nothing short of an act of God to pry him from her arms. No sooner had the thought entered her mind, did the intermittent raindrops that splashed around her begin to fall like hot, stinging tears. Within seconds, the drops transformed into a gushing torrent—a vertical wall of rain—and Buffy’s startled shriek was effectively drowned out by the enraged cursing of the painfully aroused vampire.

“Buggerin’ hell.” Spike’s irritated roar was barely audible over the thunderous deluge. “Somebody’s takin’ the bloody piss.” Growling, his eyes turned heavenwards as he continued his frustrated rant. “I suppose you wankers think this is funny, don’t you?”

Buffy gasped for breath as the water saturated the air around her. Strands of hair plastered themselves to her forehead, and she could barely see with the way the rain fell into her eyes. Given her previous thought, Buffy fully expected an ark to come floating by at any moment. _Old Noah had better be prepared for some serious ass whooping,_ she thought, suddenly aware that Spike’s weight was no longer upon her.

Unexpectedly, she felt herself hauled up from her reclined position as Spike grabbed her hand and swiftly led her towards the refuge of a nearby climbing frame. Buffy’s water-drenched clothes clung to her body, weighing her down, and even with her enhanced Slayer senses, she struggled to get her bearings in a distorted world where nothing seemed familiar.

“Come on, love,” Spike said. “Get that gorgeous arse of yours under here before ‘m forced to give you mouth-to-mouth.”

Standing beneath the relative shelter of the wooden framework, Buffy laughed in delight as Spike wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled against her neck, revelling in his newfound freedom to do so.

“You’re a vampire, remember?” she said, gasping as Spike bit down lightly with his blunt teeth. “CPR might be an issue, what with the no-breath having.”

Slowly, Spike licked the column of her neck, causing Buffy to moan in pleasure. “Right you are then,” he replied. “S’pose I could just kiss you all normal like, instead, yeah? Bet that’d still get your ticker up an’ runnin’.”

A carefree giggle tumbled from between her lips. “You’re such an ass,” she said, smiling at his light-hearted manner. Casually, Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck and held his mouth against her fluttering pulse point. She tangled her fingers in the mass of slicked back curls and sighed at the resultant groan that spilt from his lips.

“Be that as it may, kitten,” Spike murmured, “but I’m an ass who loves you.” He chuckled against her skin and his deep baritone sent tremors coursing down Buffy’s spine. Leisurely, Spike’s hands slid over her hips and pulled her flush against the hard length of his body. “Quite fond of your own luscious arse too, as it so happens.”

Relishing Buffy’s pleasured hiss, Spike lavished attention on the tender skin of her throat, paying particular attention to her faded bite marks. The mere thought of another vampire’s fangs sinking into his girl’s neck made his demon howl, and he anticipated the day when he would erase the abhorrent marks from Buffy’s body and claim her as his own.

“Tell me this is real,” Spike whispered, overcome by the need to voice his concerns. “Please, love, tell me I’m not dreamin’.”

Buffy’s fingers tightened in his mussed hair and she reluctantly drew him away from her neck. Gazing into his anxious eyes, she placed her palms on either side of his face.

“This is real, Spike,” she said softly. “So real it terrifies me.”

Spike brushed a lock of damp hair back from her forehead before carefully weaving his fingers through Buffy’s long tresses. His left hand traced the contours of her face, ghosting his palm against the apple of her cheek. Slow, tormenting digits traced the length of her throat and sent a wave of liquid fire rushing throughout Buffy’s veins. Instinctively, she bit her bottom lip to prevent her cry of longing from its imminent escape.

Wet from the rain, Buffy’s body arched towards Spike’s reverent touch, and the relentless pounding of her heartbeat brought a soft moan to his lips. Each torn gasp and heady whimper frayed another fibre of the vampire’s limited self-control, and Spike knew that he was dangerously close to taking her, right here, right now on the ground beneath the climbing frame.

Despite his fierce desire for the slayer writhing in his arms, Spike promised to do right by her, and a quick shag in the dirt wasn’t what he had in mind. He knew he had to stop this now, while he still could. Groaning, Buffy pressed her body against his throbbing erection, momentarily blinding Spike’s thoughts from his honourable intentions. An uncontrolled torrent of lust rushed over him, and it was only when Buffy shivered violently in his arms that the vampire came to his senses.

“You’re cold, love,” he said, shrugging off his duster. The thick leather had protected Spike from the worst of the sudden downpour; however, Buffy’s short jacket had offered no such luxuries. Her pants were soaked through and chilled her skin; she trembled again, and Spike’s eyes were drawn to where her nipples rubbed against her clinging shirt in heavenly torture.

“Here, put this on,” Spike wrapped his coat around her petite frame, and smiling, he eased Buffy’s arms into the oversized sleeves before standing back to admire the view. “Reckon it looks better on you anyway,” he said. “Come full circle, it has.”

She huddled into the coat, glancing down with a small smile on her lips. “Thanks, Spike.”

The deluge of rain had disappeared as quickly as it arrived, and Spike had his suspicions that the Powers were just messing with him. Pissing on his parade, figuratively if not literally. Still, the last time he checked, vampires didn’t melt in the shower, and it would take a damn sight more than a spot of water to keep him from the woman he loved. Stepping forward, Spike ran his fingers through Buffy’s hair and dropped an affectionate kiss across her forehead.

“Right then, pet,” he said with a sinful smirk on his lips. “What do you say we get you outta these clothes, yeah?”

Buffy blushed at his matter-of-fact tone and proceeded to stammer in a way reminiscent of Tara on the night Anya described the finer points of sexual etiquette.

“What, here? We can’t... I mean—huh?” The colour in Buffy’s cheeks deepened as she strove to remind herself of the reasons why she shouldn’t just give in to her shameless urges.

“Eloquently put, sweetheart,” Spike let loose a wry chuckle as his eyes travelled lazily over her body. “You’re soaked through,” he said, indicating her sodden outfit. “Need to get you outta them wet clothes and into somethin’ dry, yeah?” Releasing her damp locks, Spike took Buffy’s hands in his and entwined their fingers in a calming gesture. Golden skin contrasted with pale flesh; complete opposites and yet strangely similar where it mattered. “Let me walk you home.” Upon her fretful gaze, Spike rushed to reassure the anxious slayer. “It’s late, love. The Wicca’s will be asleep so you don’t have to worry ‘bout them. I’d rather take you back to my place but—”

“Not so much with the warm clothes having?” she asked, smiling coyly.

Chuckling, Spike mulled over Buffy’s unabashed butchering of the English language and shook his head in disbelief. With an affectionate grin, he squeezed her hand. “Come on, princess,” he said, dutifully leading her towards home. “Your castle awaits.”

 

 

The streets were deserted. With hands clasped tightly and the barely discernable space between them sending shivers racing down the vampire’s spine, they walked in companionable silence towards their reluctant destination. Buffy appeared to be lost in her thoughts, and Spike’s mind was replaying an endless montage of images from the remarkable night. Unhurriedly, they strolled towards Revello Drive, neither wanting the journey to end any sooner than necessary.

Casting Buffy a sideways glance, Spike wondered if his nervousness was akin to what humans must feel after a first date. In all his wildest fantasies, Spike had never considered the possibility of escorting her home. Walking hand in hand like any other ordinary couple in an otherwise extraordinary world. Such normality was a completely foreign concept to the vampire. His poetic ponce of a former self had never gotten near enough a woman to experience this, and he was overwhelmed by the dreamlike quality of the moment.

“Hey, Spike,” Buffy asked, breaking their calm familiarity. “As much as I’m enjoying the fresh air and impending threat of drowning—whatever happened to that death-trap you called a car?”

Her unexpected question roused Spike from a particularly pleasant Buffy induced flashback, and it took him a moment to process her words. When clarity returned, a low growl emanated from the vampire’s chest and he shrugged his shoulders in false indifference.

“Long story, pet. Short version bein’ that bloody Sy’rath’s cheat at cards. There’s no bloody honour amongst demons anymore,” he murmured, kicking petulantly at a discarded beer can. “I don’ know what this bleedin’ world’s comin’ to.”

Buffy was unable to contain her giggles at the sight of Spike’s little tantrum, and squeezed his hand in response. “Oh, please,” she giggled, “like you’ve never cheated at that dumb game.”

“Hey, now. I don’t cheat,” Spike replied with a playful scowl. “Nothin’ wrong with havin’ a strategic advantage, pet. And besides, is it my fault that half those blokes can’t tell their arse from their soddin’ elbow? A vamp’s gotta earn his beer money someplace.” Spike’s eyes held a mischievous gleam and Buffy watched as his lips twitched into an excited smile. “And besides, forget the Desoto, I’ve got a new ride.”

“You have?”

“Sure do, kitten. Stole it off one of them biker buggers the night you—” Spike’s sentence trailed off as he reconsidered his words. Swallowing hard he continued softly, “I stashed it near my crypt. You ever wanna get away from this pissant town for a bit, just let me know, yeah?”

“Sounds nice,” Buffy replied, her tone hollow and tainted with sadness. “I may take you up on that someday.”

“Any time, love. Just give me the word.”

Spike detested the lost quality that had returned to the Slayer’s voice, and once again, he wished he could protect her from the numerous troubles of her world. Frowning, his eyes narrowed as Buffy began to shut down, retreating into her shell until she resembled the meek girl from several hours earlier. Glancing around, Spike realised the cause of her discomfort as 1630 Revello Drive came into view. Thankfully, the windows were shrouded in darkness and he detected no movement from inside the property. It was apparent that the occupants were asleep, and a concentrated stretch of his vampire senses revealed the steady thrum of two feminine heartbeats.

_Looks like Glinda’s showin’ Red the cold shoulder,_ Spike thought, noticing the absence of the white witch’s scent as they crossed Buffy’s front lawn. Not that he blamed Tara in the least. Despite her role in Buffy’s homecoming, Spike had a begrudging respect for the timid young woman. And considering Red’s inflated ego of late, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Willow had manipulated her girlfriend into performing the bloody resurrection spell in the first place.

Much sooner than he’d have preferred, Spike found himself standing on the Summers’ front porch. His grip on Buffy’s hand tightened as he felt the tension roll off her trembling body in waves. Urgently, he prayed that this extraordinary night wouldn’t end here. The mere thought of being separated from his girl caused a hollow ache in his gut, and he’d be damned if he would stand by and let their hard earned progress go to waste.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Buffy whispered so quietly that Spike’s vampiric hearing barely picked it up. In an instant, he enfolded her in his protective embrace, repeatedly running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. “I want things to stay as they are. I want to be happy. I don’t want—”

“Hush, pet.” Spike breathed his words against Buffy’s ear. “How’s about you sneak in an’ find some fresh clothes? You don’t have to stay here. Crash at my crypt if you want, yeah? I’m not holdin’ you to anything. Hell, I’ll even take the floor if you want.”

An overpowering sense of shame crept over the vampire for suggesting his golden girl could sleep in a tomb, but it was obvious that her own home offered no solace. Squeezing firmly, Buffy’s arms tightened around Spike’s waist as she released a harsh bark of laughter against his chest.

“Yeah, ‘cause my friends would be so thrilled with that suggestion.” Absent-mindedly, her hands traced small circles against Spike’s lower back as she imagined the gang’s predictable reaction to that scenario. “That’ll have them rushing around with coffee and doughnuts to stage yet another intervention,” she said with bitterness in her voice.

“Sweetling, do me a favour, yeah?” Spike took a step back from her embrace, placing both hands on her quavering shoulders. “For once in your life, forget about what your bloody chums want. Forget about what you think you should want and just focus on what you want. You.” His eyes bore into hers, noting the trepidation penetrating through to her very soul. “What does Buffy want?”

Now that was a loaded question. A flicker of something passed over her eyes—an indecipherable emotion that left the vampire exhilarated and uneasy in equal measures.

In truth, Buffy had spent so long living up to other people’s expectations that she had forgotten how to live for herself. Over the years, she’d played many roles. She’d been the student and devoted daughter, not to mention Angel’s salvation and loyal saviour of her demon-magnet friends. So much time spent worrying about who she was _supposed_ to be, had left Buffy adrift in a vortex of separate parts that no longer fitted together to make a whole. God, she was tired—tired of pretending and tired of being the strong one. Her life was a farce, and Buffy wanted nothing more than to lose herself in Spike’s arms and let him shield her from the world.

In lieu of her altruistic sacrifices, was it that unreasonable to want to feel safe, feel protected?

For a brief moment, she was tempted to take Spike up on his earlier offer—jump on the back of his stolen bike and ride off into the sunset. Nevertheless, Buffy knew her problems would inevitably catch up with her, and her deep-seated responsibilities wouldn’t allow it. Reluctantly she pulled away from Spike’s grasp and glanced towards the house. She watched as Spike’s shoulders slumped in resigned defeat, and reaching forward, she reclaimed his hand to squeeze it gently.

“I don’t have a choice, Spike,” she said, determined to be brave. “Dawn will panic if I’m not here in the morning. I have to go in.”

Spike’s narrowed eyes conveyed his feelings clearly, and Buffy brushed a lingering caress against his lips. Upon breaking the kiss, she sighed deeply, taking a step towards the door. Immediately Spike’s arms felt empty and he missed her warmth. His heart ached at the thought of letting her go, and it was only the realisation that Buffy was still clasping his hand that stopped him from begging her to stay.

“Spike, will you... I mean—” Her nervousness was endearing, and Spike couldn’t help the gentle smile that blossomed on his lips. “Will you stay with me?” she said. “Just for a little while.”

“You sure ‘bout that, love?” Spike asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as eager as it had in his head.

“I’m not ready for this night to end,” Buffy replied, smiling in response to the openness displayed on his face. “But I, um... about the kissing... I know we got a bit carried away back there, but I don’t think I can... I’m not...” The colour in her cheeks deepened as Buffy became increasingly flustered. “It’s just that I have a history of rushing into these things,” she said, meeting Spike’s amused gaze, “and it tends to end badly for everyone involved.” Frowning, her eyebrows scrunched together as she rushed to amend her statement. “Not that I think you’ll try to end the world or kill my friends after we get groiny, but still...”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spike said, with a teasing smirk. “I figure the whelp’s got it comin’. Whatcha say, pet? Could thin the herd a bit, yeah?”

His undead heart soared at the implication behind her babbled words, but Spike wasn’t about to bugger up his chances by pushing Buffy for sex. The mere knowledge that he could put that radiant smile on his goddess’s lips was enough to sustain him. The taste of her kisses was pure ambrosia, and Spike would willingly wait an eternity to worship at her altar.

A soft giggle tumbled from between Buffy’s lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Teasing fingers tangled in his liberated curls, and she stepped forward, pressing her body against his. Methodically, Buffy’s mouth brushed up the column of Spike’s neck as she dropped a lazy kiss against his siring mark.

“You wouldn’t really want to stick your fangs in Xander’s neck,” she said, sucking at the pale skin and causing Spike to groan in pleasure. “Not really.” Buffy’s eyes darkened as she slowly pulled back to rest her forehead against his. “And besides,” she continued, whispering against his lips, “I don’t feel like sharing.”

Spike’s earlier boast had planted a seed in Buffy’s mind, and the thought of Spike performing such an intimate act with anyone besides herself caused a surge of possessiveness to sweep through her.

“Fair point.” Spike’s voice raised several octaves and he released an unmanly squeak, shuddering, as Buffy’s warm breath tickled his face. Remembering his respectable intentions, he banded one arm around her waist and brought the other hand up to comb his fingers through her hair. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, love,” he said meeting her gaze, “I’m strictly a one woman vamp. An’ there’s no rush. ‘m not gonna pressure you or turn into a heartless prat if we don’t... I’d wait forever if I had to, Buffy. Christ, sweetheart, you’ve given me more tonight than I deserve.”

“That’s not true,” she replied, emphatic in her denial. “You’ve earned it.”

“Buffy—”

“I should have told you sooner,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have wasted so much time worrying about what the others would think. I wanted to say it, but I was afraid. Take it,” she said, cupping his cheek in her palm. “Take your crumb. Hell, Spike, you can take the whole damn cookie as far as I’m concerned.” Buffy’s thumb traced the strong line of Spike’s cheekbone and she reclaimed his hand with her own determined grip. Drawing him with her, Buffy took a step towards her front door. She knew the words were unnecessary—he already had his invite—but looking into his eyes she felt it crucial to say them aloud.

“Come in, Spike.”

Three simple words.

Hand in hand, vampire and slayer stepped over the threshold. Demonic nature and preconceived notions forgotten, banished to the past, as Buffy granted him entry to her home, her life and more importantly, her heart.


	6. La., Ut ameris, ama! - To be loved, love!

Upon entering the house, Spike immediately despatched his girl to the laundry room in search of some dry clothes. In her absence, he prepared a mug of hot chocolate and placed a fleecy throw over the sofa to protect it from his damp jeans. Chuckling, he shook his head at the ridiculousness of a vampire worrying about creating water stains on the Slayer’s three-piece suite.

_William the Bloody, Scourge of Europe... protector of household bloody furnishings..._

A soft cough interrupted his musings, and he turned to find Buffy standing in the doorway with an amused grin on her face.

“I didn’t realise the big bad was house-trained,” she said in a teasing voice. “I may never let you leave.”

Longingly, Spike’s eyes swept over her body as he took in her freshly dressed appearance. To his approval, the wet pants and top had been discarded in favour of a black flowing skirt and a red sweater. Buffy’s make-up was freshly applied, and a loose ponytail swept her hair back to reveal the graceful curve of her neck.

“No place else I’d rather be, kitten.” His eyes followed her movements across the room. “Told you. There’s no gettin’ rid of me now.”

Revealing her fatigue, Buffy sighed as she flopped onto the couch. She offered Spike a tired smile and picked up the mug that sat upon the coffee table.

“Do you wanna watch some TV?” she asked, patting the space beside her. “There should be a decent movie on some—-”

Her words were interrupting by a lengthy yawn, and smiling softly, Spike sat down beside her, taking her hand in his.

“Sweetheart, you’re knackered,” he said, rubbing small circles with his thumb. “Why don’t you get some kip, yeah? If you want, I’ll stay with you till you’re asleep.”

“No,” Buffy replied, adamantly shaking her head. “I don’t want to sleep. I can’t.”

Shaken by a sense of déjà vu, Spike laid his right arm along the back of the couch and shuffled closer. “Bad dreams?” he asked with concern evident in his voice. Warily, he searched Buffy’s unfocused gaze and with a growing feeling of dread, he hoped that his suspicions would not be confirmed.

“Nightmares,” she replied in a soft whisper.

_Bollocks._

His heart sank, as internally, Spike berated himself for not working it out sooner. Of course she was having trouble sleeping. Buffy had been through an ordeal the likes of which could never be appreciated without first-hand experience—the kind of trauma that ought to be reserved solely for those of an undead disposition.

Sighing, Buffy leaned back against the comfort of his arm. “Every night... I wake up suffocating. It’s terrifying,” she said, trembling under the heavy weight of the vampire’s worried gaze. “It feels like I’m back in the coffin and I can’t get out. I can’t escape.”

“I know that one.” Spike’s voice was a solemn whisper as it startled the Slayer out of her trance. “Don’t forget I’ve been there myself, love. I remember wakin’ up in the darkness. It’s the panic that makes you fight your way out, I reckon. Only in my case, I was lucky. At leas’ Dru was waitin’ for me on the surface. She didn’t abandon me like your soddin’ mates did.” A derogatory laugh spilt from the vampire’s lips as he shook his head in disgust. “My sire might be bug-shagging crazy but at leas’ she wasn’t bloody stupid.”

“They didn’t mean to...”

Unable to defend the Scoobies actions any longer, Buffy’s words faded out as Spike’s stony silence became an unmitigated accusation. He was right. Her friends had abandoned her. Either through ignorance or plain stupidity, they’d raised her and left her to fend for herself.

“When will it stop?” she asked, imploring the vampire with wide eyes. “When will I forget?”

Slowly, Spike’s right hand moved to stroke lazy circles along the column of Buffy’s neck.

“I can’t answer that, pet,” he replied, smirking when she shuddered under his gentle touch. “But you’re strong. You’ll heal. And eventually the panic attacks will go away.”

Gazing into his eyes, Buffy knew he was speaking from the heart, and she was grateful that he didn’t try to lie, or cajole her into believing there was an easy solution. If there was one thing she could always count on with Spike, it was his brutal honesty—regardless of whether she actually wanted to hear the truth or not.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” he said, leaning across to reach for the remote, “so until that day comes, how about we see what excitement the telly has to offer, yeah?”

Grateful for the diversion, Buffy took a sip of her hot chocolate and settled against his side. Sighing, she rested her head against Spike’s shoulder. “Keep the volume down,” she said, making herself comfortable. “The last thing we need is everyone else down here fussing at us.”

“Sure thing, pet.” Taking her hand in his, Spike thanked God for enhanced slayer hearing. He didn’t want to be interrupted any more than Buffy did, although the thought of giving Red a scathing piece of his mind brought a devilish smirk to his lips. Flipping aimlessly through the channels, Spike marvelled at the domesticity of the moment, and for the thousandth time that night, he prayed for the ability not to bugger it up.

“Ooh, was that Brad Pitt?” A quiet voice piped up from his shoulder. “I haven’t watched Interview with the Vampire since before I was Chosen.”

Scoffing, Spike swiftly changed the channel. “Well don’t hold your breath, pet, ‘cause you won’t be watching it tonight either.” The corded muscles in the vampire’s jaw twitched, and his voice descended into a deep resonance. “No bloody way am I gonna sit here whilst you fantasise about _another_ pensive poof.”

Buffy bit back a grin at her vampire’s ill-disguised jealousy and gently squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry,” she said, nudging his shoulder. “I’m so over the tortured soul routine, it’s not even funny.”

“Glad to hear it.” Spike dropped an affectionate kiss against her hair. “Although to be fair, at least Louis had a bit of personality. Now there’s a vamp who knew how to brood in style.”

He grinned as Buffy stifled another yawn, certain that she would soon be enveloped in badly needed sleep. Reaching across, he removed the mug from her wilting grasp and placed it on the side table.

_Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll keep the monsters away tonight—and forever if you’ll let me_.

Within minutes, the tinny sound of an old black and white movie lulled Buffy into a relaxed state. Spike’s presence was comforting and undemanding, and before long, the Slayer felt her eyes grow heavy. Snuggling closer, she slipped her right arm across his stomach, sighing in contentment when Spike wrapped her in his secure embrace. For the first time in many years Buffy didn’t feel alone. Her mind was quiet, her world peaceful.

Spike was with her and he wasn’t going to leave.

Buffy had found her normality.

 

 

Spike stared down in amazement at the young woman who was now sound asleep across his lap. Buffy had slipped from her precarious position during her slumber and was now stretched out on the couch facing his stomach. Intently, Spike studied her sleeping face, cherishing the fact that she trusted him enough to sanction such unguarded behaviour. She looked so peaceful in repose, as if the worries that plagued her waking hours no longer existed, and if Spike could grant her just one night of peace, he swore he would slay dragons in order to make it so.

If nothing else, tonight would forever remain in Spike’s memories. This fact was all the more set in stone when Buffy released a sensual moan and nuzzled against his denim clad crotch. More convinced than ever that the Powers were playing another round of ‘kick the Spike’, the vampire released a soft groan and rested his head against the back of the couch.

_I suppose you bleedin’ wankers think this is funny?_ Spike thought, pointlessly directing his tirade towards the ceiling. _The lady said she wasn’t ready!_

Thankfully, Spike was saved from his awkward predicament when, with a mewling yawn, Buffy rolled onto her back. Slowly, her eyes flickered open and a shy smile curled her lips as she met his gaze.

“There she is,” Spike murmured as he lovingly caressed her cheek. “I was beginnin’ to think you were gonna sleep the night away.

“Mmmm… Now, where have I heard that before?” Buffy asked, chuckling at Spike’s corresponding grin.

A flash of desire shone in the vampire’s eyes as his calloused thumb brushed over her soft bottom lip. “I like to keep my best lines in rotation.”

Lost in his intense gaze, the Slayer’s throat was suddenly parched. A shudder coursed down Spike’s spine when Buffy’s tongue swept over her dry lip, brushing against his digit in the process. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked, nuzzling against his palm.

Unable to look away, Spike’s useless lungs fell into synchronisation with Buffy’s regular breaths. “I reckon ‘bout an hour, give or take,” he said, acutely aware that a certain part of his anatomy was about to announce its undisguised presence. Buffy had made it clear that she wanted to wait, and it was doubtful that she would appreciate being faced with an irrefutable reminder of his fierce desire. Willing away his burgeoning erection, Spike shuffled his hips in an effort to make his quandary less obvious.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, pet,” Spike said, as Buffy moved to sit up, no doubt in response to his sudden fidgeting. Reaching for a convenient cushion he made to ease it beneath her head. “Go back to sleep, yeah?”

“I’m awake,” Buffy replied, reluctant to move from her comfortable position. “And besides,” she continued, rocking her face against the crook of his elbow, “if I stay like this you’ll be stiff by the morning.”

A dark chuckle filled the air between them, and Buffy rolled her eyes at her poor choice of words. “Nothin’ unusual ‘bout that, when I’m ‘round you, love,” Spike replied with a sinful smirk as he relinquished his hold on the improvised barricade.

Shaking her head at his good-natured teasing, Buffy favoured him with a dazzling smile. “You’re still a pig, then?” she said, her voice soft and playful. Reluctantly, she forced herself to vacate the vampire’s lap in favour of the couch cushion. “At least some things never change.”

“Oink, oink, sweetheart,” Spike murmured as he watched Buffy stretch her arms above her head, unconsciously taunting him with the luscious curves hidden beneath that tight sweater.

The satisfied moan that escaped the Slayer’s lips caused his borrowed blood to race directly to his cock, but Spike’s enjoyment was short-lived as he noticed Buffy’s eyes flick towards the clock on the wall.

4:00 a.m.

Disheartened, Spike realised that his time was growing short. Stealing himself for the inevitable pain of separation, he decided it would be better to make a graceful exit of his own accord, rather than risk the indignity of being asked to leave. Unwilling to meet her eyes, Spike distracted himself by pulling at an imaginary loose thread on his jeans.

“Buffy, love, it’ll be daylight in a few hours. I should get going.” His uncooperative body refused to move despite the validity of his excuse, and it was with an immense effort that Spike forced himself to meet her gaze.

There was no mistaking the panic in her eyes, and utilising her slayer quickness, Buffy reached for Spike’s bicep before he could rise from the couch. “Stay, please.”

A deep sigh escaped from between his lips, and Spike brought his hand up to cup Buffy’s chin. “Sweetling, if it were up to me, I’d take you in my arms and never let you go. And as much as it galls me to say this... we both know this is bigger than just the two of us.” Delicately, Spike’s thumb traced over the apple of her cheek, and Buffy’s eyes fluttered shut at his tender touch. “The last thing I want is to make things harder on you,” he whispered, “and if your soddin’ mates find me here in the mornin’, you won’t have chance to draw breath before they start firin’ off the first round of the bloody inquisition.”

In an instant, Buffy’s eyes were flooded by a torrent of emotion; acceptance dulled her impassioned gaze only to be swept away by a resurgence of anger and defiance. All traces of insecurity disappeared to be replaced by a look that was pure Slayer.

Magnificent.

A radiant smile curled her lips, and ever so slowly, Buffy cast her right leg across Spike’s lap, settling herself comfortably above him. Face to face, she met his surprised gaze and brushed a soft kiss against his lips.

“The last time I checked,” she said, tangling her fingers in his unruly curls, “this was still my house. And until they start paying me some rent, they have no say in the matter.” Her resolute tone left no room for discussion, and Spike’s eyes widened as Buffy trailed her fingers down his neck before rubbing her thumb across his full bottom lip. Unable to resist, he kissed the tip of her questing digit, before banding his arms around Buffy’s waist and pulling her flush against his lap. There was no denying his obvious state of arousal, and Buffy released a breathy sigh as his confined erection pressed against her burning centre.

“So what are you plannin’ on tellin’ them ‘bout us?” Spike asked as she peppered a series of kisses along his neck whilst simultaneously rocking her hips against his aching hardness. “I won’ be your dirty little secret, love. If we do this, I’m not gonna hide how I feel about you. I can’t. I’m not built that way.”

Teasingly, Buffy ran her tongue over his siring mark, causing Spike to groan deep in his throat and throw his head back against the couch. “Buffy, pet,” he murmured, half-heartedly stilling her movements. “Are you even listenin’ to me?”

“Listening, yes,” she replied, continuing her delicious assault. “Caring... not so much.” Pulling back to meet his eyes, Buffy wore a smirk to rival his own. “I don’t owe them an explanation, Spike. This is my life and I’m sick of living it for other people. I want to be with you, and I’m not going to hide it. If they don’t like it, they can leave.” Gently, she placed her palms against his cheeks and dropped a brief kiss against his scarred eyebrow. Tracing her thumbs across Spike’s chiselled features, she met his gaze and giggled at the awe that swam beneath the surface. “Anyone who even dares to mess with you will suffer the full wrath of a seriously pissed off slayer.”

“Buffy—”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy, because it won’t. Nothing involving us ever is.” The stubborn tone of her voice brought a reluctant quirk of Spike’s lips, and he sighed as Buffy’s hand warmed his cheek. “This is the Hellmouth. Crazy comes as part of the deal around here. And yes, the cards are definitely stacked against us,” she said, “but, hey, that’s nothing new. I think between the two of us we’ve already broken the odds by a long shot, don’t you?”

This was too good to be true. Resisting the urge to pinch his arm, Spike arched a brow, taking in her wide-eyed and honest expression. Slowly, he released her waist and slid his hands up to rest at her shoulders.

“Buffy, pet, tell me what you want,” he whispered. “Tell me what I can do to make this easier for you.”

A slow-born smile lit up her face as Buffy’s gaze locked with his. “Kiss me.”


	7. Amor vincit omnia - Love conquers all things.

Never one to refuse a lady, Spike tangled his left hand in Buffy’s hair and pulled her into a heated kiss. Moaning at the unrestrained passion coursing through her veins, the Slayer responded with equal fervour, nipping at Spike’s bottom lip until her tongue was granted access to his mouth. There was no trace of the hopeless desperation from inside the Bronze; instead, this kiss was fuelled by years of repressed longing and an undeniable need for completion. From that first fateful meeting in the alley, Buffy had met her match, her soul mate. And despite her avid denials, she knew that this progression was inevitable.

Insistently, Spike’s tongue duelled with hers, sucking rhythmically, until with a heady gasp, she gave herself over to him completely. There was no feeling in the world that could compare to this, no flavour to rival the addictive taste of Spike’s kisses. The more he gave, the hungrier she became, and Buffy’s grip tightened as something deep within her locked into place. The only thing standing between her and a lifetime of this blissful fulfilment were three simple words.

Words that without a doubt terrified her more than any vampire or demon she had ever faced.

_What am I so afraid of?_ Buffy thought. _Just tell him. It’s not like he’ll run away screaming. The curse of Buffy lovage doesn’t apply here. Spike loves me... and he’s not going to leave._

Spike’s hand slipped behind her head, and, effortlessly removing her scrunchie, he allowed the golden tresses to fall around her shoulders in waves. “Buffy, sweetheart, look at me,” he whispered, cupping her chin in his palm. Bereft of the sensation of his cool lips against hers, the Slayer whimpered in protest and slowly opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “I love you.” Deft fingers combed through her hair as the other hand cupped her cheek. “I love you.”

“Spike.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she rained a series of soft kisses against his lips. “Thank you... thank you.”

“Buffy?” Confusion flooded the vampire’s voice as he grasped her by the forearms, gently breaking their embrace as he forced her eyes to meet his. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

With a giddy smile, Buffy placed her hands on Spike’s chest. His lips curled into a corresponding grin, as through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, her touch warmed his non-beating heart. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is always being the strong one? All those fake smiles and sacrifices? The brave faces I put on for the gang, just because I’m of the Chosen and supposed to be able to handle whatever the Hellmouth throws at me?”

Mimicking his pose, Buffy’s head tilted to the side, as unconsciously, her hands smoothed over the corded muscles of his stomach. “I’m not the same person I was before,” she said, “I’ve changed. I can feel it… and it scares the hell out of me.” A heavy sigh passed through her lips as numerous emotions danced in her eyes. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Spike—who I’m supposed to be, but… one thing I do know is when I’m with you, I don’t have to pretend anymore. No matter what, you always see straight through the crap and the lies, and the endless amounts of crazy but you don’t care. You love me anyway.”

Buffy paused and took a deep breath to steady her thundering pulse. “I don’t know how to exist here anymore, Spike. But when I’m with you—you wake me up. You make me feel things that I’ve long since buried, things that I thought weren’t real—couldn’t possibly be real, and then… God, when you’re not there...”

The air between them sparked with electricity, and Spike was keenly aware that he was panting to such a degree that if he’d actually needed the oxygen that flooded his lungs, he would have been in danger of hyperventilating. Hastily, he swallowed past the lump in his throat as the intensity of Buffy’s gaze caused a shiver to race down his spine.

Overwhelmed by the need to touch her, Spike banded his arms around her waist, rocking her against his aching erection. “I only feel alive when you look at me,” she said, shaking her head as she regarded him. “You make this life feel real, and—sorry,” she ducked her head, “I’m turning into babble-girl. I told you Buffy and words were seriously of the unmixey.”

Spike opened his mouth to respond, but was immediately silenced when she placed a finger on his lips. Garnering her courage, Buffy took that final leap of faith; her eyes never abandoning his stunned gaze as she stifled a sob.

“I love you, Spike. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wanted to... I—” Sniffling, Buffy brushed a lone tear from her cheek. “I guess I was too afraid or—I don’t know—too stubborn to admit it—but I do, I... please believe me. God, Spike, I love you so much.”

So lost in her verbal outpouring, Buffy had yet to notice that her vampire was atypically silent. It was only when a look of sheer wonderment stormed his eyes that the Slayer took the time to study him. No man had ever looked at her like that before, like she was the embodiment of everything he’d ever wanted—everything he’d been denied for so long.

“Spike?” She knew she had nothing to fear, but the unmixeyness of Buffy and the ‘L’ word caused a pool of nervousness to bubble inside her. “Please, say something.”

“You sure ‘m not dreamin’?” Spike’s voice was choked with emotion as he held her tighter, afraid she would disappear. “Christ, Buffy, I never thought... I hoped, but—I never actually believed...” With an aching groan, he drew her into a fiery kiss. “Say it again,” he begged against her lips. “Please, kitten, let me hear the words.”

The uncharacteristic display of vulnerability brought a soft smile to her lips. “I love you, Spike.”

Spike froze, elated and terrified in equal measure, as without warning, his eyes flooded with joyous tears. His vision narrowed until the rest of the room disappeared, and at that moment, all else amounted to nothing. He saw nothing—knew nothing but the girl in his arms. She was his world, his reason for being, and nobody was going to take her from him again.

Slowly, he slid his hand behind her head, twining through her hair as he guided her towards his kiss. If Buffy had expected a forceful embrace, she was mistaken. With deliberate restraint, Spike teased and persuaded until she was unable to take any more. Heaving a deep sigh, Buffy opened her mouth, allowing him to delve inside and kiss her with everything he had. Even then, he remained gentle, nipping at her bottom lip and lightly massaging her tongue with his own. A slight tilt of the head changed the angle from seductive to devouring, and upon pulling away, Spike was treated to the sight of Buffy, breathless and flushed with desire.

It was intoxicating. I did that, he thought as he dove in for another kiss.

Spike was determined to worship the goddess in his arms. Through his actions, the vampire would endeavour to recreate heaven on earth and give her back a little of what was so thoughtlessly stolen. His lips abandoned the delights of her mouth to trail a line of butterfly kisses towards her ear. Running his tongue along the outer shell, he proceeded to nibble and suck at the fleshy lobe until Buffy was writhing in his arms. Reflexively, the hand at the base of her spine clenched, tense fingers digging into her soft flesh as Spike pressed her urgently against his throbbing length.

Inevitably, Buffy’s skirt bunched up around her waist as she ground herself against his confined hardness. She was certain that Spike could feel the evidence of her arousal despite the two layers of clothing that separated them, but as an exultant shiver raced down her spine, she found she was past caring. Keening, the Slayer ground herself against his rigid erection, faster, harder, increasing the pressure on her clit with each purposeful thrust of her hips. A whimper fell from Buffy’s lips as Spike’s cock moved within his jeans, twitching and pulsing in unison with her own throbbing body.

The duel sensation of the damp lace of her panties rubbing against the rough denim of Spike’s jeans felt incredible, but it wasn’t enough. Buffy longed to feel him, unobstructed, against her wet folds—to feel Spike’s hands trace the silken curves of her body; however, the sensations flooding throughout her being were too wonderful to bring to a close. The scent of her arousal permeated the air between them, and the sound of her panting sighs echoed in her ears. Buffy had never before been so turned on by kissing alone, and she was shaken by the force of emotion Spike’s lips invoked.

Spike groaned as his senses were assailed with tantalising hints of her arousal. His hands ached to wander over Buffy’s skin, to dip between her legs and feel the sopping confirmation of her desire against his fingers. Nonetheless, Buffy had said she wasn’t ready, and despite the blatancy of writhing in his lap, was yet to announce a change in the rules. Regardless of this knowledge, Spike’s hands moved of their own volition, sliding up and over her ribcage, finally coming to rest beneath the swell of her breasts. In a moment of daring, his thumbs brushed over the hard protrusions of her nipples through the thin material of her sweater, causing Buffy to moan and arch into his touch.

Reigning in his desire, Spike summoned a century’s worth of restraint and fought to get himself under control. He knew with certainty that he’d gotten this far by allowing Buffy to define the boundaries of their relationship, but the pleasure-filled whimper that passed her lips made it bloody difficult to remember to be good. Breathless and moaning, she squirmed against him, relishing the feel of his hardness pressed against her burning centre. Greedily, Buffy’s hands traced the sculpted muscles of Spike’s abdomen, before sliding up to grasp his biceps with her trembling fingers.

Captivated by the incredible sight before him, Spike groaned as Buffy’s head fell backwards, affording him the opportunity to lavish attention on her throat. Her racing pulse thrummed beneath his eager mouth, as the vampire licked and kissed along the fragrant column of her neck. Teasingly, he tickled her ear and sucked at her collarbone, causing Buffy to jerk in his arms as he bit down lightly with his blunt teeth. A breathy gasp tore from her throat and she ground herself against him faster, desperate for more of the delicious torture.

Anxious to feel his bare skin beneath her touch, Buffy pushed her hands beneath Spike’s T-shirt and scraped her fingernails across his chest. Her questing digits pinched and rolled his nipples, causing Spike to thrust against her as a deep groan tore from his throat. The sound caused a corresponding moan to fall from Buffy’s lips and her hands reached for his zipper, clawing desperately at the top button in an effort to free his imprisoned length.

Surprise was written all over her face when Spike took hold of her scrabbling hands, effectively preventing the Slayer from reaching her goal. “Buffy, love, hang on a sec,” he said, lacing her fingers with his and stilling her movement.

“Wha—Why?” she asked, her voice small and confused, “I thought...” Hurt flashed in her eyes and Spike’s undead heart ached at the sight. “Don’t you want me?”

Spike baulked. “Are you barmy? Of course I bloody well want you,” he replied, squeezing her hands in reassurance. “Never doubt how I feel ‘bout you, love... But the thing is... and I’m likely to bust a nut for even suggestin’ this, but—” A deep sigh shuddered through his lips as he met Buffy’s confused gaze. “I promised myself I’d do right by you, sweetling, an’ I meant it. I’ll be damned all over again if we’re gonna have our first time on a lumpy old couch. I don’t just wanna shag you, pet,” he said, smiling when a flush appeared on her cheeks. “I want to lay you down on my bed and worship every inch of your luscious body. I want to make love to you the way you deserve.”

Buffy’s eyes searched his gaze, seeing the truth of his words. With a gentle smile, she brushed a fleeting kiss against his lips, however, a small frown marred her features when she glanced down at his erection straining against the seam of his zipper. “That looks painful,” she said, immediately wincing at her naivety when a slow, sexy smirk formed on Spike’s lips.

“Well yeah,” he replied, running his tongue over his teeth. “But if I let that beast out, it’s a bugger to get the bloody thing back under control. Got a mind of its own, it has. ‘Specially when it’s around you, love.” Buffy couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from her throat, and she sighed as Spike slipped his hands up her arms and caressed his way down to her waist. “Don’t you go frettin’ that pretty blonde head ‘bout me, love. Let me take care of you, yeah? Just relax and I’ll show you what happens when you put yourself in the hands of a _real_ master vampire.”

Spike returned his mouth to her fluttering pulse point, and a ragged moan slipped from Buffy’s throat when once again, he slid his hands over her breasts. Emboldened by her response, Spike proceeded to massage the fleshy mounds as his talented fingers found her aching nubs. Each tweak of her nipples caused a corresponding tug in her womb, and absent-mindedly, Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth, causing tiny drops of blood to mar the swollen flesh. The vampire’s nostrils flared at the scent of her potent essence, and leaning down, he swiped his tongue over her abused lip.

Spike was sure that if Buffy kept up her ceaseless movements he would likely embarrass himself by coming in his jeans. However, he had never done so before, and he sure as hell didn’t plan on starting now.

Unfortunately, Buffy was making it damned hard.

_Bloody hell._

He was _hard,_ all right. Ignoring the fact that he was sporting an erection that could pound nails, Spike dedicated himself to giving Buffy what she needed. Focusing on her pleasure, Spike grinned as she bucked and mewled against his cock, unashamedly writhing in his arms. Buffy’s arousal overwhelmed his senses and he could tell she was swiftly approaching orgasm. Determined to push her over the edge, Spike nipped at her ear, tickling her neck with his cool breath. His hands fell to her waist as he ground his erection against her burning core, seeking to bury himself inside her welcoming body.

_Soon._

At that moment, Spike wanted nothing more than to rip her sodden panties off and shag her senseless, but he was certain that if he controlled his baser impulses this could become something more. Something glorious. Something beyond either of their wildest imaginings.

Her potent blood beckoned him like a siren’s call, and Spike allowed his canines to drop without fully shifting into his vampiric visage. Cautiously, he scratched his fangs along the vulnerable skin of Buffy’s neck, raising a series of identical welts. Crimson beads welled in the shallow cuts, and Spike laved the area with his tongue. Soothing and relishing his first taste of Slayer blood since that New York subway. The intoxicating fluid stimulated his taste buds, and Spike’s demon clamoured for more, screaming at him to claim its chosen mate. His self-control wavered when Buffy’s fingers tightened in his hair, holding him against her neck as she unconditionally offered him the sweet nectar of her life source.

_Not yet, mate,_ he thought as his raspy tongue sent shivers racing throughout Buffy’s body. _She doesn’t know what it means. The girl’s not ready to make that commitment._

Spike’s mind was still spinning from Buffy’s confession of love, and he wasn’t about to rush her into a decision of such unparalleled importance. His heart held no doubts. As far as Spike was concerned, Buffy was all he’d ever want. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t impose immortality on her in the heat of the moment. That was a discussion that could wait for now. But one day he would make their bond official. Make it forever.

Abandoning the temptation of her neck, Spike took Buffy’s mouth in a searing kiss. “Does that feel good pet?” he asked, finally breaking the embrace. “Do you like what I do to you?”

Divested of coherent speech, Buffy was helpless to do anything other than nod and pant in response. Dropping a tender kiss against the corner of her mouth, Spike nibbled his way across Buffy’s jaw line until he reached the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“You feel so good in my arms,” he murmured, nipping at the fleshy lobe. “This is where you belong, love. Never gonna let you go, my sweet slayer.” Blowing lightly, he whispered in her ear and delighted at the tremor that wracked her over-sensitised body. “You’re mine, Buffy, as much as I am yours.”

Shamelessly, he crooned in her ear and ground his erection against her needy centre, determined to send her over the edge. “So bloody beautiful,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair. “I want to watch you come, sweetheart. Want to hear you scream my name as you writhe in my lap. You’re drivin’ me outta my soddin’ mind here... Makin’ my cock so hard. Want to bury myself inside you, pet. Want to thrust into your juicy quim and feel you squeezin’ me... You’re wet for me, aren’t you? Gonna burn me to ashes, you will... My darling girl.”

Erratically, Spike fought to drag unneeded air into his long dead lungs. Buffy was going wild in his arms and determinedly, he forced down his own need for gratification.

“Spike!” The cry escaped from her throat as a breathy pant. Scratchy and thick, the Slayer barely recognised her own voice as her body spiralled uncontrollably towards release. She couldn’t think beyond her need for completion, couldn’t focus beyond the sensation of Spike’s lips sucking her tender skin between his teeth. The riotous emotions within her were all consuming, and it was only the constant reassurance of his deep baritone that kept her grounded to reality.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered against her throat as he favoured her with a languorous lick of his raspy tongue. “Let go, sweetheart, I’m here. Spike’s got you.”

“Keep talking,” she said, moaning softly and urging him on with a heated gasp. “Don’t stop... Oh god, Spike, say my name—talk to me. So close... so... Oh!”

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy... love you so much. Just you. Only ever you. Come for me, baby. Come for your man.”

Spike’s babbled words fuelled the inferno within her, and Buffy hissed in pleasure as liquid fire raced through her veins. Reaching forward, she grabbed his head in her hands, kissing him with enthusiasm as she thrust her tongue into his mouth. Spike’s determined hands traversed her body and grasped Buffy’s hips as he encouraged her movements against his imprisoned length. Helplessly, Spike bucked against her centre, until with a groan, Buffy stiffened, shuddering and trembling in his arms as her orgasm rushed through her body.

The metallic taste of blood filled Spike’s mouth, and he realised that in his haste to prevent spilling himself inside his jeans, he’d accidentally bitten into his own bottom lip. The pain acted as a suitable diversion as he hauled Buffy towards him, swallowing down her screams of release as he wrapped his arms around her back and waited for her to ride it out. Incredibly, his girl refused to baulk at the unfamiliar sensation, and with matching fervour, she moaned and returned his bloodied kiss. Finally, Buffy’s sated body calmed, and Spike uttered a harsh groan as the last trace of tension left her body and she collapsed against his chest, quivering in his arms.

“Oh god,” she murmured, as her racing pulse fought to return to normality. “Oh god, Spike.” Panting, she huddled bonelessly in his embrace, marvelling at the pleasurable aftershocks that shivered down her spine. “That was—I’ve never...” Pulling away, she suddenly rose to meet his gaze. “What about you?” she asked, indicating his still prominent erection. “You didn’t... Do you want me to—”

Willing his body to relax, Spike chuckled and draped his forearm over his eyes. “Don’ worry ‘bout it, love. You can owe me one, yeah?” A devilish smirk curled his lips, as he met her gaze. “An’ you can bet your delectable little arse that I plan to collect.”

“Is that a threat?” Buffy asked, leaning forward to drop a lingering kiss against his cheek.

“No, kitten,” he replied, threading both hands through her hair and drawing her towards his mouth. “That’s a promise.”

Foreheads resting together, their lips brushed in a feather-light caress.

“I love you, Spike,” Buffy whispered against his lips. “I don’t know what I’d do if...” Her words trailed off as a shudder raced down her spine and her eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” Spike replied, nuzzling at her neck. “I love you, an’ I’m here to stay. As long as you want me, I’ll be right by your side.”

“How does forever sound?” Buffy asked, running her hands over Spike’s stomach as she pressed herself against him. “Does forever work for you?”

Anxiety constricted his throat, as she eerily voiced his undisclosed thoughts. Sighing, Spike wrapped his right arm around Buffy’s waist, drawing her closer.

“You don’ know what you’re askin’ of me,” he said, brushing her hair back behind her ear.

Abandoning the delights of his toned abdomen, Buffy reached up to cup his face. “Give me a little credit, huh? I may not be all with the slayer book smarts, but on occasion, I do actually listen when Giles speaks. I know what a claim is. And yeah, I know _exactly_ what I’m asking.”

“Well let’s hear it then, kitten,” he said, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. “What is it you reckon to know ‘bout claims?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the sarcastic undertones in Spike’s voice, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Bite’s happen. Blood is swapped. We say the magic words and hey, presto! Claimage.”

“Buffy, this is serious—”

“I know. Look at me. I’m serious girl. I’m all with the seriousness over here.”

“Forever’s longer than it sounds, love.” The solemn note in his voice surprised her, and she quickly sobered when she met his nervous eyes. “I’ll be buggered if I can wrap my head ‘round the idea, an’ I’ve been around a damned sight longer than you have.” Spike expelled a harsh breath and his voice dropped to a low whisper, disclosing his uncharacteristic insecurity. “I just don’t wanna be somethin’ you regret. I couldn’ bloody stand it if you weren’t sure an’ ended up hatin’ me for the rest of eternity.”

A gentle smile curled Buffy’s lips as she saw the future unfold before her. Fighting, loving—simply living with Spike by her side. Now that she had opened her heart and mind to the possibility of a future, Buffy knew she could never let him go. The existence of vampiric claims was one of the few lessons of slayer training that she’d bothered to retain, and if there was a chance that she didn’t have to give him up, Buffy would grasp it with both hands and hold on for dear life.

However long said life may be.

“I think the real issue here, is whether you could put up with me for the rest of eternity,” she said, determined to dispel his fears. “I seem to remember a certain vamp saying I was stubborn and frustrating.”

A rich chuckle rumbled from Spike’s throat as he tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, an’ if I recall correctly, he also mentioned lovin’ you enough to turn his back on his entire soddin’ existence,” he replied. “I’m not letting you go, Buffy. Not now that I finally have you. An’ I swear, if it’s what you really want, then one day I’ll make you mine in blood an’ not just in word.” His tone was grave as he met her eyes. “Nobody’s gonna tear us apart.”

Spike watched as a torrent of emotion warred behind Buffy’s gaze. Her eyebrows knitted together to form a tight frown, and upon reaching her unknown conclusion, a look of determination washed over the Slayer’s features. Curious, the vampire opened his mouth to speak, but reconsidered when Buffy shivered in his arms. Reaching across he picked up his discarded duster from the arm of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders, holding her tightly as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“So, where do we go from here, love?”

He was watching her with such undisguised affection that Buffy felt tears well in her eyes. Swallowing hard, she curled her fingers around the soft material of Spike’s t-shirt and offered him a reassuring smile.

“Hold me?”

At the hint of nervousness that tainted her voice, Spike swore to banish her insecurity if it was the last thing he ever did. Inexplicably, her eyes were wide, fearful of rejection, as they implored him to stay. How was it possible that this incredible woman had no idea of the power she held over him? Tucking her hair behind her ear, Spike brushed his thumb against Buffy’s cheek.

“Never could say no to you Summers’ women,” he said, crushing his lips against hers in a kiss that stole her breath away. A kiss flavoured with the promise of tomorrow. “Not about to start now.”

 

 

As daybreak crept over the horizon, thick drapes protected the sleeping forms of the Slayer and her vampire protector. Laid out on the couch, with Buffy’s head pillowed on his bicep, the two lovers slept safe in the knowledge that the greatest battle was won. With strength gained through love, they’d reached the other side, and there would be no fearing what lay ahead. The tempest of despair was behind them, but a new storm was brewing. Unavoidably, the encroaching dawn would bring forth a thunderous demand for answers and vindication.

Nevertheless, when those dark clouds parted they would walk through hand in hand.

United.

Together.


End file.
